Welcome to my journal. I'm putting this at the top so folks can find things easily. There's so many years worth of stuff on this journal that it's not that easy to find things. I started out just journaling, but then got into writing fiction as well.
At the Outer Banks, Brenda taught me how to make her biscuits. She used Southern Biscuit flour, wheat germ, coconut oil, and buttermilk to make crisp on the outside, fluffy on the inside biscuits. I only had the biscuit flour I'd brought back with me from OBX, and Costco and the local Safeway didn't have anything of the sort, so I just got all purpose flour instead, and did the best I could with baking powder and soda. And instead of buttermilk, I just added water to Greek Yogurt, which is acidic enough, but a little too solid to go in straight.
Aaaand... of course, a day into the whole thing, I discover that the wireless doesn't work in our room, and everywhere else there are, pretty much, people. Good people, people I love, but still... it's pretty much impossible for me to write while someone is trying to talk with me. The two sets of circuits are pretty much incompatible.
So you'll get the first trip this way. *laughs* Hopefully the Crowne Plaza in New Jersey will do better by me and the journal. It better.
Of course, our whole trip got started on a very odd foot to begin with...
It was raining, the slow, fine ever present rain that goes with a sky occluded by white. The overcast and drizzle were familiar to me, as comfortable and present as my own breath. I was carefully watching the shadow of the edge of a running blade, using the shadow's intersect with its caster as my way of knowing when I'd hit my mark.
There was a time I would have laughed if someone said I might be anxious after just two days of rain. After the floods, though, it's kind of interesting to go around Longmont after two days of pretty heavy rain.
I was at the 911 center today, doing my thing. Legal procedures have changed here, and a lot more lawyers are required to get transcripts earlier on in the process than before. So I get a mountain of work every time I go in. Every week is different.
Amazingly grateful for being able to walk around the neighborhood in the sunshine today, with Jet. I'm happy that I can cook again, that I can wander around the house again, that I can actually drive to church and do everything that I needed to do there. I'm amazingly grateful for just the simple act of being able to put my hair in a ponytail and not be dizzy from the unconscious head toss that I do when I do it. *laughs*
It's pretty amazing the number of things I have back.
The biggest was that I was able to let John go off on a trip to Cleveland on Wednesday through to today. I tested being able to drive on Tuesday morning, and was so exhausted at the end of the meeting I had then that I had to lie down on one of the couches at church for a conversation with someone else. After that I was good enough to get home. Luckily, it got better after that...
The receptionist listened to John list the symptoms and said that my doctor is out on vacation all week, and the other two partners in the area were booked solid, so she said that if I really wanted to see a doctor that it would have to be urgent care because that was all that was available. John and I both agreed that it didn't sound like she felt like I had to see a doctor right away.
On the 14th of February it was pretty obvious I had an eye infection of some sort in my right eye, but I'd had a bunch of those in the past, and on the 15th John was going to Fort Collins to do a talk about the flood recovery work he was doing, so Jet and I went with him as support and as witness. It was important and a good thing, but that afternoon, my eye started really hurting, so we went to the Urgent Care clinic before it was going to close and I got antibiotics for what was a bacterial infection in that eye.
Angie, the friend I visited around Christmas time went into hospice two weeks later, and died two weeks ago, peacefully dying after just a day or two's unresponsiveness. Her memorial service was yesterday. It was crowded, and filled with people who hadn't been to our church for a while, and it was so good to see everyone gathered in her name.
She had planned the entire service, in her fearless way. It included speeches from her sons, her husband, one of his sons, and a dear friend of both of ours; the reading was the one about love in Corinthians, which was used in my wedding; and ended it with a rousing rendition of the Village People's "YMCA". It was very much her. The luncheon was fabulous, and the weather defied the predictions that it would start to snow in earnest soon after noon, it waited until after the last of the lunch was cleaned up, and people were home. At 2 pm, wind-driven Gulf clouds whipped into the Front Range from the east, and driven upslope, proceeded to dump a good eight inches of snow.
Today, only the intrepid made it into church, and of those that did, several needed to tell their stories about Angie, too, and I had to sit down with the friend who had done the speech the previous day to just hug her and listen and be present for her as she mourned. John had a similar experience with someone else.
I talked with someone else who has a sister with ovarian cancer, and how that sister is living life for all she's worth. "We're all dying anyway, but some of us just know it's going to be sooner than we'd like," he said. And he is right in a certain sense. Enjoy the ones you love while you can. That's important.
I cried a little during the memorial service, but not a lot. I'd had three crying jags already with respect to Angie, and one of them was just a few days ago, while I was painting six-panel doors for someone's basement. I'd really gotten to know her, the first time, during one of the Biloxi mission trips; and construction work just reminds me of her. The thing that struck me the hardest was my utter gratitude that I'd gotten to see her before Christmas. And it was only then that I realized that what made everything all right was that when I saw her, when I had to leave, we got to say to each other, "I love you."
That made it all right, in a way. I still miss her.