Studying, 5 FEB 2010

There is a lot swirling, waiting to settle down into writing…

The seventeen year anniversary of a major turning point in my life (yesterday, 4 June 2013)…

Watching baby pigs grow up…

My revelation to the answer to the unanswerable question (which came to me yesterday afternoon)…

What to do with myself, what is next…


Life is hard, silence is hard, waiting is harder, God is still on the throne, and a word on friendship

Life is hard, silence is hard, waiting is harder, God is still on the throne, and a word on friendship

I tell myself I will have more time when __________.

Then I get sick again, and again, and again (mending, better, but not well).

Of course, if my laptop worked properly that would help.  Blogging from a fakey tablet keyboard is insanity as I can type about 60 WPM.

So much is swirling these days…

I got Annie’s due date wrong, clearly, so waiting for her pups.

Don’t even get me started on the roaches.

Up half the night every night from being sick.

Appointments…here, there, everywhere, but nowhere close.

Public transit here, there, everywhere else.

Kiddos…life with kiddos…staying out of the middle of little kid drama when someone is having a bad day.

Thinking…dreaming..writing…but not blogging.  There are some pieces of a person’s soul fit for the view of God and dearest friends only.  What comes down through the blog is the stuff distilled through God, friends, and prayer…nothing raw, nothing too personal.  I find it funny sometimes that people think I’m too free or too open.  I think those who have known me longest know I measure things out carefully, and rarely tell all.


There have been some dark days lately, but there haven’t been a lot of conversations.  Conversations are what always make me think…and write.  Conversations, questions…maybe I’ll find something this week?  I’ve got a few things I poke at, half-written.  There aren’t enough people in my day-to-day life, few deep and meaningful conversations.  I wonder when the last time was that you — whoever you are — took very real time to take things beyond a mere “How are you?”/”Fine.” level.  A person can die of loneliness for being “How are you?”/”Fine.”  People won’t give you an answer they know you won’t take time to hear.


Take the time to listen and to care.  Take the time to really be a friend — it really doesn’t take much.  Taking time to love is always time  worth taking.  I have a lot of friends who don’t have time to be my friends.  They love me, I love them…but even though I know it’s not the message they wish to send at all, the one that gets handed down by default in many cases is: “You are not worth my time.”  We are Americans, we keep ourselves irrationally and pointlessly busy.  I undertand this, I live here too, I see it all.  Still…I’ve worked with enough people at the end of their lives to know that no one regrets not being fully caught up on TV programs.  Life in this world is short, fleeting, precious, uncertain — life and time are a precious gift, don’t waste them.  Be intentional in your friendships.  Pick up the phone, send an e-mail, even just send a text.  If you’re thinking about someone pray for them and then send even a brief word.  If you’re “on my list” you know about this.  People notice when you truly care, and love and care are lethal to loneliness.

And yet probably no conversations today.  Today?  Taxes need to get finished.


Hugs with the Skeffy Favorite 29 May 2011

But all in the back of my mind are thoughts of this little guy — Mr. Skeffington (“The Favorite”®) — quietly slipping from life, alone.  He’s about 6¼ years old, a real sweetheart, and a funny little guy.  He belongs to my sister, but lived with me for over a year.  I love him dearly, and yet soon he and his funny little voice and funny little face will be gone.


Mr. Skeffington, July 4th weekend 2009

This is the sad part.

It is expected, but it doesn’t make it easier.  It does suck a lot of joy out of waiting for Annie’s pups though.

Sad day…hard week…but God is still on the throne.

“Never a dull moment” to the degree that I don’t know if I would recognize one if it were happening

Some time around 10:30 PM (I’m too lazy to check the call log), my phone woke me up (think “Concerning Hobbits” as referenced in my post from last week).  People are always calling me for random reasons at all hours of the day and night.  It was my roommates, there was a kitten stuck under the hood of a truck downstairs.  I was half asleep, it was a very confusing phone call.  The small killing machine herself is now safe — and clean — in a carrier in the back bedroom.  She’s as cute as they come, not feral AT ALL, and has had a very rough day.  I guess the story is that she was stuck there all day, though maybe not ALL day because I walked the not-my-dog twice Monday and we would have noticed kitten meows.  I found a trapped kitten myself by the rectory at the church up the street a few months back (a fun fiasco — I needed to tie up the not-my-dog to not freak the kitten out, but the dog was freaking out because the man who was helping me was a stranger and was way too close to one of her people).

I feel like a horrible person for hoping the cat goes somewhere else (like back to its real family or to a nice home), but we have three kids five and under, a cat, a dog, two frogs, a gecko, a goldfish, plus my two guinea pigs.  The three year-old is, well, she’s Elmira — terrorizes all animals but is also deluded that they like her (Elmira is a character from Tiny Toon Adventures and Animaniacs! — my afternoon tween and teen cartoon destination).  The last thing this crazy house needs is a kitten (the cat agrees, she’s old and cranky and still hasn’t forgiven them for the dog).

Apart from that?

My new *workout plan* involves taking the not-my-dog running on 2.6 mi round-trip trips on a local designated bike path…on a (pro series) Razor scooter.  She is half chihuahua and half rat terrier — and the terrier means she has the energy of your average nuclear reactor (ROCKET DOG!!!!).  And darn it if that critter won’t pull me if we’re on a slight decline.  Really though…the sight of a thirty-something on a scooter, with a helmet (so uncool…and yet so safe, I’ve broken two helmets in falls and have been hit by cars twice — one rolled a red light, the other didn’t stop at a driveway; the helmet stays), with a weird little rat dog racing like a bat out of hell DEFINITELY turns heads…but generally in a “WTH was that?!” kind of way.  Like dog mushing on a much smaller and more eccentric scale.  But really, if you are my friend, you understand that for all the intellectual high-brow stuff, part of me remains still seven years-old (I am only 98% grown-up).

The 98% grown-up was getting very cranky this afternoon.  I did, finally, finish my post on gratitude, but needed to sit close enough to the WiFi to pick up the signal…which put me in the middle of the living room policing a child with whom I was losing my patience as she seemed hell-bent on being as annoying as humanly possible.  I eventually threw her butt in time out for not listening because I was just sick of dealing with her…and the catch was that she wasn’t listening in time out either, so I wouldn’t have cared if she stayed in time out forever.  Brother is sick and was home from school, others are getting sick…it was just a crazy busy day where what I thought was going to get done didn’t get done.

The air conditioning was fixed before dinner, so I retreated to my room at dinner time and took a four hour nap (haven’t really slept since at least last Wednesday).  It was too lovely for words.

I don’t remember what my next writing topic will be — I looked at it last night, but I was very tired at the time.  I remember being delighted by it.  I give myself permission to deal with it in the morning.

Still writing…

Still writing.

Life distracts with a silly thing called “reality” that keeps getting in my way. Visiting my relatives, spending beloved time with my baby niece, three small children (not mine, my roommates’, but beloved just the same) who are a force of nature that could bring down an empire (and possibly win a land war in Asia in a year or two), enough Dora the Explorer episodes as the constant soundtrack of life in this house to make me fairly certain that the solution to all my problems is probably hiding at the bottom of a talking purple backpack, and the very STRONG suspicion that Swiper has swiped my sanity, plus the crazy measures needed to attain both use of my laptop and use of WiFi concurrently mean that everything I’m writing is being written long-hand first? Well, it just makes the writing process more of a challenge (but I’m probably a better writer for it). – VKS

If you’re also subjected to too much of a certain small, enthusiastic Latina and her purple monkey friend, this will make total sense to you: