A New Routine

Good morning gentle readers.  I hope you had a good week!  Mine was a whirlwind of driving, talking, eating, laughing, hugs, kisses, more talking, definitely more driving, and sleeping in my grandparents gigantic bed.  In all, it felt like the pictures, a tall glass of delicious boba tea drained, quite magically, in an instant.

It was a week of infinite blessings, of good cheer and camaraderie, of seeing people I hadn’t in ages, and appreciating the wonders of technology that brought us all together.  Life, quite simply, is GRAND.

And now, today at least, I’ve got to figure out what to do next.  I need a new routine.  My body is finally ready for a little more vigorous exercise.  I want to get the self-publishing ball rolling for Polite Society, finish the short story I started before I left, as well as the novel I began last year (The Sometimes Sordid Tale of My Penmanship).  My generous mother-in-law Martha gave me a beautifully bound book of paper, much in need of drawings and watercolors, and my precious Portland friends now have their kidlets in school, so there’s time during the day to be together.  So much goodness, I tell you.  I just need to get it all on paper and figure out a way to do it all, as Mary Poppins would say, “In the most delightful way!”

So rather than recount my Colorado adventures (don’t fret, this will be done), today I am setting my intention to arrange my time so that I can be all that I can be.  Maybe there’s something you’re wishing to organize?  I say, let’s go forth together!

I’m longing to see.

Time for a blog break, gentle readers.  I’ll be back next week!

In the mean time, be well.

Your friend and fellow traveler,

Colleen

I do not come from a perfect family.  I am not the perfect child.  I don’t call or visit terribly often, rarely send gifts, and can be quite blunt in my assessment of my parents.   In their defense, it has rather little to do with the way I was raised and much, much more with my own wacky Gemini-ness, as my Mom and Daddy did a good job with me and my siblings, all things considered.  We are decent, kind, hard working citizens of the earth.   As well, I love them very much and do not, at all, look forward to their passing.

It is from this same, quite honest, point of view that Christopher Buckley explores the living and dying of his own rather unique parents, the rather famous socialite Pat, and father of the modern Conservative (with a capital C, in his own words) movement, William F., Jr. or Bill, though I can’t really utter the latter from my lips, as it seems too plain for such a dandy of a wordsmith, too vanilla pudding.

As I had hoped, the book is also a rather good time.  In between the sadness and tears, I found myself laughing out loud (no exaggeration – the fellow on the blanket next to us at Vicky Christina Barcelona gave me and my book many a concerned look) at his parents idiosyncrasies.  His mother was an extraordinary dresser and an even wilder liar, sometimes wickedly so.  Yes, liar – and so bold about it too!   As for William F., save for the rules of the Catholic Church (oh how he despaired about not being able to see his Jewish friends in the afterlife), had no qualms about breaking other laws that seem quite logical to me.  Along the same lines, these are people raised in the time of better living through chemicals: popping uppers and downers without a care, smoking cigarettes and cigars, eating whatever they wished, and drinking, oh the drinking!

It is a rather singular approach to grief, love, and letting go of the people who brought him to earth, told with with wit, warmth, humor, and heartache.  I highly recommend it.

Embrace

We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another.

Luciano de Crescenzo

My friend Kelli asked me this question recently.  I thought, in my very blogger way, I’d answer it publicly.  First off, let’s get physical, tee hee.  I feel like a broken record saying this, but, here goes, I’m t-i-r-e-d.  With the heavy blood loss sustained during my surgery, I am struggling to keep up, energy and oxygen-wise.  To put it into perspective, when I was a blood donor at Children’s Hospital in Denver, I was eligible to give one pint of blood every fifty-six days, the length of time to fully replenish it in my body.  I lost three times as much during my surgery, so I think I have quite a while before I’m not tuckered out performing normal activities.

Thankfully, my incisions are feeling better by the day (though still very Frankenstein-ish), and the only times I experience serious discomfort are when I sneeze, a cat jumps on my tummy, or I jump or jog, even a little bit (like power walking/dashing down the street to get to my dentist appointment on time).  So, I still have a bit more time before I can exercise like I used to.

Now for the emotional.   I am pissed!  I am pissed that I can’t do what I want when I want.  That window needs to be opened or cleaned or whatever, but I can’t do it.  Same goes for the laundry, mowing the lawn, sweeping (I made a mistake by doing this too early), and vacuuming.  I hate dust bunnies!

I am grateful.  I am grateful for my good health, all considering, before the surgery.  Had I been out of shape and overweight, my very complicated surgery would have been made much more so, as fat in the belly makes it even harder for surgeons to do their work in a safe and precise manner.  Also since I was in shape before, I am not suffering nearly as much as I would have to recover.  Oh goodness, I can’t imagine it being worse than it already has been.  Seriously people, it’s been HARD.  I am also grateful for all of the wonderfully kind and supportive people on my block, across the country, and here in blogland.  I don’t think I have ever written so many thank-you notes or shed so many tears of wonder at how tenderhearted and caring people truly are.  You are amazing!

I am irritated!  I am irritated that people have criticized me for having my uterus, fallopian tubes, and right ovary removed at such a young age, even though they were utterly deformed, absolutely useless, and a source of tremendous pain.  I shall never make an apology for this.  I am in charge of my body.  I am irritated that I have gross pimples, headaches, and sleepless nights from taking all these hormones.  I am irritated that I can’t go to Nia class, lift weights, or spend a morning practicing yoga.

I am in awe.  I am in awe of my dear, sweet, funny, and talented doctor.  When faced with the mess that was my insides, she did her best to fix me laparoscopically.  When the blood loss was too great and my life was at stake, she completed the surgery in the safest manner possible and rid my body, for the most part, of the source of the excruciating pain I’ve endured for years.  I am in awe of my superstar husband.  He has been so tender, patient, loving, funny, and kind through what has been a VERY difficult time for us both.  Bless his gigantic heart, I love him so.

I am ready.  I am ready to start anew, to experience a life without so many limits, in boundless joy.

That’s it.  Really.  How are you?

p.s. The dog pictured above is not ours but a friendly guy we met in the forest.  He had no collar (fear not, his owners were nearby), so I named him Angus.  Good boy!

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