Posts Tagged ‘Life of the Spirit’

August 15, 2011

I was standing looking down into our stock tub, watching the left over bathwater move around the sides and gently swirl -like galaxies, huge cosmic clusters, and stars. I had retreated to the tub earlier, because today is the once again anniversary of something that happened and changed my life forever; some days it’s hard to tell if it got better (I think it has) or not (sometimes it seems that way too.)  In any event it was extraordinarily traumatic and as I found myself overcome with memory and emotion today, it really made me think.  So many people in the world have had things transpire in their lives, violent, traumatic, sad things, and such things affect you forever.  It’s just a question of how.

When something astounding and painful happens, it lodges in your body.  Whether or not you make mental peace with it, gain understanding, or not, it is there and comes and goes almost as though it is an independent, volitional creature.  When you can’t come to terms with it, they call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.   When such things happen to children, they really don’t have the intellectual infrastructure to make “sense” of it and then, this “it” can become life long adjustment difficulties.  As older individuals, trauma can still create huge adjustment difficulties because on some level it seems we are “supposed” to “get over” everything.  Just like in the movies, it’s all resolved in the end- or not, in the case of a cliff hanging plot.  Easier to just stuff it in the back of the mental closet and carry on- at least until the closet gets too full and the door pops open.  So sometimes when I encounter someone out in the world who’s just SO angry or reactive or whatever, I think- hmmmm.  There’s a big ouch there.  At the same time, that acting out of the feeling is a way of being stuck in it, never letting it go even if it is technically unacknowledged.  Resisting feeling that pain is a way of never letting it go.  And somehow, when that path is chosen, that “thing that happened” continues to dominate everything, like the elephant in the living room.  Perhaps it also has to do with dwelling on the apparent unfairness of the situation, feeling that it shouldn’t have happened to YOU.  So therefore you have the total right to behave any damn way you want to.

I think, though, that this response is a result of never having gotten back into one’s body in the first place after the…accident happened.  You can almost feel how you slip up through the top of your head, and then look down at everything from a high remove.  It takes a long time for all the various parts to come floating and crashing down to earth, and then you get to rebuild.  Some people gain a lot of weight during these sorts of things:  they’re trying to make the body a comfortable place to come back to.  That’s just one manifestation of course.  But the rebuild! Wow.  The work of a lifetime, that is.  Once the shock wears off and you’re back in the apparently real world, you know somehow you’re not the same.  But what are you?  You can’t go back, exactly.  Like Heraclitus said, you never step in the same river twice.  The expectation might be that the pain eventually goes away.  And it does, but never completely.  Sometimes you experience it rising up and grasping you, and the real key, I’m coming to see, is how you respond in that precise moment.  Naturally, you’re stressed, uncomfortable, filled with sorrow and fear, irritated, whatever it might be.  Hard to explain to anyone else, too, because after all, this was [however] long ago and far away in a sense.  But pain is pain, and all of it turns out to be amenable to the same sort of interaction.  You have to breathe into it, through it, surrender to it which means not resisting it and pretending you can control it somehow.  Then it moves over you like a wave, ,and afterward there are shells left behind, like messages from you to you.  Messages of peace, as well as messages of understanding.  While it’s pretty hard to really understand just what we’re here for, one thing really is clear.  It’s all a learning journey.  I think pain almost has to be used as an opportunity for growth and expansion, but sometimes when you think about all the people who are living with it every day in all its’ innumerable manifestations and permutations, it just seems like there should be a better way for us all to deal with and learn from what we go through.  It might make us all realize our oneness, which is one of the saving graces in life.

The 4th of July

It is, not surprisingly, supposed to be in triple digits temperature-wise here today.  Just like last year.  And, just like last year, I am fixedly Not Thinking about all the fireworks people are going to set off out here in the moderately dry woods. I mean, I love fireworks even if this holiday is somewhat mystifying.  But in tinder dry woods? NOT SO MUCH.

Anyway.  Even though, or perhaps because, things are going so tremendously sideways to all appearances these days, sometimes there is a view of it all where I’m floating high above and feeling both apprehension and anticipation in equal measure.  The Partner is currently fixing (again) the swamp cooler, the birds are nattering away waiting for breakfast.   I’m floating up above and looking down at our situation, our world, and being figuratively buffeted around by my anxieties and my hopes.  In truth, all we can really do is go forward, do our work, keep open hearts and minds.  The way is full of boulders and chasms both personal and worldly.  There really isn’t much point in letting fear take over- then you’re just paralyzed, truly stuck.  The trick is to let the fear inform you – let it help you flesh out your decisions, in a way.  What are you really afraid of?  Everything! is my answer at times.  Narrowing it down from there?  I’m afraid that I won’t be able to make my way in a world that seems to have no room for me; I’m redundant.  But then I have to ask- to whom?  In a world where people are attempting to become President of this country when they don’t even know the first, basic, thing about its history or much else if you’re honest; in a world where zealous militant people who theoretically at least oppose capitalism and everything it has created on this earth still eat fast food without a qualm; in a world where the divide between rich and poor has been practically institutionalized into a chasm and Nature is dispensable- in that world? What, me worry?  Light and dark, good and evil- they’re always in balance, or at a standoff perhaps.  The tension between them can become unbearable when the dark seems to be creeping out and becoming thick, stifling the light.  That point, which we all, whether we are aware of it or not,  seem to be inhabiting ever more frequently, is when simply looking at the task at hand, the duty in front of you, can really save your life.   And the real duty is to love, to open our hearts and fly even when it seems we’re surrounded by the fires of hell.

One Love

I was in the post office a day ago, getting orders out.  I’d run out of package tape, and asked the woman in front of me if I could slip past her and get the tape hanging on the wall for sale.  It had been a rough day, a rough week, and my mail was full of stuff that required attention and unravelling.  And money.  So as I got the tape and stepped back into my spot in line, I said that I might as well get the package finished and stop reading all that good news.  She turned to look at me, and we had an interaction that struck me right between the eyes.  She laughed about the “good news” we get in the mail, adding that it had been a terrible year for her.  We chatted and compared horror stories.  It developed that her son, aged 25, had died about 18 months before, while in the Army.  I didn’t ask where he’d been- the pain she felt was such a clear, flamelike presence there wasn’t anything to say beyond reaching for her hand.  We were both able to laugh about the ridiculous experience of speaking with bill collectors calling for someone who’s dead.  They ALWAYS insist on talking to that person.  Good luck with that, I said.  That’s what I said! she responded, beaming.   As I left the Post Office I was thinking of the unimaginable enormity of her loss.  The pain would be unendurable at times, and in fact she’d said that at times she just sat and cried all day because she didn’t know what to “do”.  I also thought about how incredibly stupid it is for civilizations to continue this practice of throwing their young’s bodies at each others, to fight to the death, for “patriotism”.

The thing that happened there, the feeling experience of it,  made me think of  something from many years before.  I’d been shopping for something to wear to my husband’s funeral.  As I came out onto Market Street, in San Francisco, I saw a very handsome young man sitting on the sidewalk, begging.  His pain was a flame, too.  We looked at each other for what seemed like a long time but was, probably, a few seconds at most.  I remember thinking, this pain I’m in will end, eventually.  His pain is just beginning.  Of course, for both of us, both those things were true.

In both these instances, a real contact was made, a real feeling and communication from person to person.   No barriers and no pretense, and the question is, why doesn’t that happen more often?  I think acknowledgment is almost the most important thing we can give each other, some times.  Yes, this happened.  This is how it felt.  A witnessing of the truth that one person sees and shares, so that another person sees that truth, too. This act is very liberating, and to me is the real kernel of forgiveness.  You are still, however,  left with the pain.  This may be one of the big things we have to get as humans.  The pain is inevitable although it seems that much of it could be avoided.  But some things are just more than you can bear.  We can’t always keep going.  Some days we have to cry.  The issue is what we do next.  A witness at times can help us see beyond our current horizon, help us keep going.  They validate our experience and keep us from judging ourselves for being human, having weaknesses and sometimes, even falling down.

In this “developed” world,  where everything is digital and on line and at breakneck pace, we are awash in loneliness even as we are surrounded by others.  The press of events, and things, and traffic and everything that goes into making a day seems, often, to keep us from really paying attention to our fellow beings.  Also, it can seem so totally overwhelming what with everything that goes on….disaster after disaster, suffering atop suffering, revelations of perfidy upon revelations of perfidy.  But we cannot shut down in the face of all this.  We have to, I think, anyway, keep ourselves open.  Keep our hands out to those near us, in case they need us.  Or we need them.  Remember we are all the same, really.  We all have hearts- we should use them.

The Long and Winding Road

It felt strange to be back in the Bay Area.  I had lots of appointments and Things To Do, one of which was an annual doctor visit.  I’ve had the same doctor (and mechanic, too!) for the bulk of my life as an adult, which is pretty amazing.  She looked thoughtful while I answered her questions about my life now- after all, she’s seen me in Every Prior Incarnation Including The Ones With High Heels,  and this, perhaps, is not what anybody really expected I’d do.  It’s subsistence living, she said.  This is what our ancestors did.  And it must be REALLY STRANGE for you to be back here.  Indeed it is, I agreed.  But she got the concept of how one has to make ends meet here: You do lots of different things that come to fruition at different times so there is always something happening.  It’s a huge amount of work, which she kept repeating as though it were a mantra.  Mmmm hmmmm. In a further reminder, if one were needed, that it is a pretty small world, I found that the day before, someone who lives about 20 miles from us also made the trek down to see her.  Apparently a lot of people are moving up here.  Our move was somewhat inadvertent, but it does give one pause.  Because really? This is about as different a place from the Bay Area as you could imagine.  By every marker. Even though, while having a drink and watching the ocean the night before I left, I at long last learned the proper way to butcher and prepare a wild pig from the man sitting next to me at the bar.  I guess the thing is, here? Nobody would tell you anything, even if they knew it.  (“Pigs? “They’ll say. “Do a deer first.  Call me if you see any pigs, will you? I’ve got tags”  Uhm….never mind. )  Any speck of functional information is guarded as though it were the last, missing step on a treasure map.  We’re just now, after a year, finally hearing people tell the truth about the weather, for example.  Oh yeah! they’ll say now.  It gets HOT.  No shit, Sherlock.  What was that baloney you handed me last year about how it’s 80 most of the time.  OOOOHHHHHH, I get it! You meant at 4 am didn’t you?

Still, there are so many THINGS in the Bay Area, after all.  Things to buy! Stores! People! The energy of it all could be cut with a plastic picnic knife.  Everything going at pretty much top speed.  The driving has deteriorated past, perhaps, the point of no return.  The purpose of turn signals in one’s vehicle,  for example, is apparently a concept lost in the mists of time.  I was used to the U-Turn Rodeo going on there all the time, but the instant pull over into your lane by an onrushing vehicle, whether YOU are there or not, was a bit surprising.

It has to do, the effect of this move north,  for me anyway, with irrevocable and inescapable change.  Any time you have to change your reality it is a big jolt.  Few of us, perhaps, are aware of just how much input we have into what we think of as our daily reality.  We’re used to having external markers that help us navigate what eventually becomes a familiar landscape.  Somehow we think that- well, we think that reality is REALITY, in a way.  When it changes it is quite challenging indeed.  Another thing that comes into focus is the…universality of all things.  People are people, their strivings and hopes and fears are the same everywhere.  There may be more or fewer opportunities to partake of what this society has to offer but in the end we ARE all one, like a giant beating heart.  At the same time, when it seems as though you’ve gone to the end of the world and nothing- not one thing-  is as it was,  you’re no longer sure just what you thought it was before anyway, either.  Of course, this is precisely the time to withhold judgement, observe, and take it one day at a time with no expectations.  Boy, doesn’t that sound like fun??  See how easy.

I do, indeed, miss my friends, almost more than you’d think one could stand.  Chinese poets of ancient dynasties, drinking wine out of saucers at far flung outposts of empire, looking into the sky with broken hearts, wiping their eyes on their long sleeves and writing mournful couplets for their absent friends with long handled brushes and dark inks, somehow sprang to mind.  At the same time, I’m more sure than ever that there is a wholeness to things which also includes a rightness that is often beyond anything we can get or assimilate or understand rationally.  I don’t regret any of this, at last.   Because, after we finished discussing the Impending End of the World at my previously written about haircut, my Genius Hair Guy told me he felt the animals all around me, and the Power of a Bear in my heart.   See? How Easy.

A Year Later

In retrospect, I was too wackadoo in the moment to realize that the first day of the rest of my life was: APRIL FOOL’S DAY.  Of course, now I see it and, wow.  What a sense of humor the universe has!

You may remember, Gentle Reader, the circumstances  last year that led to our departure from the Bay Area and the hejira that followed.  But seriously? April Fool’s Day? When suddenly we were thrust into a completely different world and life and experience.  Unprepared to a certain extent given the precipitous nature of the decision making process.  Stressed out of our tiny little minds, we were like refugees trying to maintain a semblance of normal life. Trader Joe’s was a beacon of regularity.  And wine.

Now, things are swirling through the world like cyclones, and every day brings a new set of things to shake one’s balance.  Nuclear meltdown, global tides of unrest, bankrupt institutions.  We’re still trying to keep body and soul together here on a basic level and having a perhaps remarkable degree of success.   It’s hard to really  measure what you do because of course you’re IN it, there’s no distance between You and Pressing Events.   Like bugs, heat, whatnot.  Rampaging pigs and the onset of snake time.

But what I thought about today is how you FEEL going through something like this.  Like any difficult situation, it doesn’t help to lock horns with it.  You have to somehow walk with it, sit with it, be with it.  And that? is hard to do.  Some days you can be lost in the blackness, bitter and angry.  Other days the light shines and you can move forward.  In any event, things are going to come up and they have to be dealt with.  In the normal course of daily life, what used to seem normal in any event, there’s a schedule and a hectic pace and lots of Things to distract you from the rumblings that may be occurring in the inner world.  Not to mention the quantum field.  But when you get torn from everything you formerly knew from landscape to people to daily routine, you’re kind of on your own.  It can be rough.  People don’t always play nicely at these times.  Plus, there is still the quotidian demand to provide for food, shelter, clothes, medicine.   Taking the deep breath turns into something that gets done a zillion times a day.  Sometimes even that doesn’t help.

Ultimately  however, you have to know -because you do come to sense- that there is Something a whole lot bigger than you, of which you are a part.  That Something is moving and shifting and your job is to move with it, not against it.   It’s kind of the old teaching, Not My Will but Thy Will.  But. In our culture, the something bigger is largely related to the capitalistic model.  Religion is about authority, as Emerson wrote, and not about a spirit based reality.  We’re prodded to look outside ourselves for everything, to fill ourselves up like an empty cup, over and over.  I recently heard a meditation teacher talk about how the practice involves, quite often, Starting Again.  Like when your mind wanders to some wildly inappropriate topic when you’re trying to be in the OM? You calmly start again.  Another deep breath, another peek at spaciousness.  And you never really finish.  We have to, it seems to me, learn to accept the fact that things will be unfinished, left undone, the projects stretch endlessly and without proper preparation can even have to be completely redone.  Sort of like the feelings of anger that can come up when your metaphorical toe gets stepped on, chopped off, besmirched, or whatever.  Time to start again, look at the situation in its’ entirety.  Start again.  It can be hard to maintain compassion for self and others when one is so mightily pissed off at times.  It is probably helpful to remember that we weren’t constructed to never, ever get mightily pissed off.  Or scared, or tired.  It is really a question of what we do when those things happen.

So, at the beginning day of another rest of my life, another April Fool’s Day, I can see YET AGAIN that I must start again, not just in my garden but in my self.  But I can see how far we’ve come and what has grown from this adventure.   There’s growth and progress as well as death and winnowing.  This life requires a great deal of patience, but in the end? That is much easier than continually sinking into the pool of unprocessed emotional murk in the same spot time after time.  So, a year later? I think progress has been made.  And it’s time to start again.

Uh, Lemme See Here

Greetings, Gentle Readers.  It has, indeed, been a minute since we last convened here for the Ongoing Saga of Life at House of Boozilla.

Nothing much has changed.  The tomatoes are ripening apace, and the possum in the back yard and I are engaged in armed struggle.  Which is expected to ensue shortly with the squirrel as the figs ripen.  Although, the squirrel and I have a bit of detente so, perhaps foolishly, I feel fairly calm about the figs.  As opposed to last year when we hardly got ANY.  Sure, there were cleaned and empty skins with all those cute little tooth marks in them.  And the bitten-into not quite ripe figs that then had to go into the compost.  Still, we live in hope.

The Partner is not much improved, and next week we’ll no doubt have an exciting report on the $350 appointment we’ve made with The  Gastroenterologist.  I’m doing Major Magic to come up with THAT sum, but nils desperendum.  

Meanwhile there has been much to ponder in the Outside World.  People are just losing it right and left, aren’t they?  Calling the President a liar? My goodness.  Try that in Iran, buddy.  Or pick something about which there might, maybe, be some question of veracity.  Otherwise, did you just want to make yourself look like an ill-bread idiot?  Then, poor Serena and Kanye, spouting off.  I guess it is hard at the top, too.  All kinds of hurtful, really offensive, but courageously anonymous, comments on some of the blogs I read.  And, The Joy of Driving, of course.  I got totally confused one day because as I pulled out of my parking space and prepared to exit the lot, a woman in a BMW (and I am sorry, but really.  BMW should give mandatory driving and comportment lessons with their cars.  Seriously.) sat on the right, outgoing side lane.  I, in my exposed, pulled out spot, had to quickly review just which side we actually drive on here.  Then, of course, someone was racing in on the incoming side, which was my left.  The woman in the BMW?  I bet you can’t guess what she did.  Give up? Yes.  She mouthed my least favorite word and flipped me off.  I’m like, what are you DOING? to her and PLEASE DON’T HIT ME to the other driver who was also, ha ha, flipping ME off.  It strains credulity, to say the least.   I wonder if they expected my Subaru to sprout wings.

But, I read this last week, and very especially appreciated the part about those who “live their lives putting out the extra effort not to be an ass…”  I think this is the essence in many ways of  living a conscious life.  Certainly it is in the basic tenets of Buddhism (right action), and in the words of  Jesus (do unto others as you would have them do unto you) (Just in case a refresher was needed.).  Because there are certainly many out there who seem to put out the extra, we may say even mammoth, effort in the contrary direction.    Everyone feels that they, quite simply, just have it the worst.  They are entitled.  They know it all.  Their desires must come first, always. Corollary of course is that you don’t know doodly.  There is so much anger and anxiety out there now, it makes going outside a challenging prospect indeed.  Where did all this constant looking outside oneself and demanding instant gratification come from?  What about growing up and cooperation?  Not to mention, delayed gratification.  I really don’t understand all this rudeness and the violence of these interactions we’re witnessing now.   It doesn’t help anything.  It doesn’t speed up the process of the Ass In Question getting what it wants.  It’s like being part of a mass tantrum.

So, meanwhile.  Life goes on somehow.  And the tomatoes are great.

Did I Forget to Say Thankyou?

I try not to, forget that is.  A wise person once said that if the only prayer you ever say is thankyou, that will be enough.

Easy to forget to say, however.  The world is too much with us and all that.  But I watched a beautiful starry sky last night with floating many-silvered clouds and it was a revelation, yet again.  There is so much good built into nature, thoughtful interactions and rebirths.  I often think of that Gary Larsen cartoon showing God making the World in a mixing bowl, saying, as he adds a few tablespoons from a bottle marked “Jerks”, “just to make it interesting…”  Some days I could do with a good bit less interesting.

I was also thinking about how it is we get along with each other.  I once had a client who was a former Nazi, and was one of  the most intelligent, charming and aware people I’ve ever met.  Another client, a regulation dyed  in the wool U.S. Conservative (which? what does that really mean???)  who overall, prefers to stay in place with prejudices intact.  Other people I work with have wildly diverging philosophies from mine, and in different circumstances, who knows what might happen.  It seems to me, though, to be a question of whether we learn from our experiences or not.  If we don’t, and continue on the same way always, I’m thinking we aren’t really alive.  It’s a shame to miss those stars.

Just To Amuse Myself

A header change.  Or whatever these theme things are called.  We’re still on the high seas of crazy, apparently, and such things amuse us.  

However! I have been thinking, mulling things over, as per usual.  A book on my shelf demanded to be taken down and opened, and it opened to some thoughts on Resonance.  An ancient sage was asked what the real meaning of the I Ching was, and he responded: Resonance.  Wow.  THAT set me right.   “An essential essence or sound within the Universe….the idea of putting yourself in touch with (this) essence of the Universe through the use of chance…..the essential ebb and flow of the Universe, if it is possible to tap into this at any time…it simply remains to find the correct or best method of doing so….” (from THE FORTUNE TELLER’S I CHING, Palmer, Ho and O’Brien.)  For a minute I had been drifting in a seemingly chartless Sargasso Sea of Blah and Yeugh.  This little paragraph reminded me what it is I have been in search of, working toward, however you want to say it, in my life.  It is Resonance.  No coinkidink then, that I am a practitioner of vibrational medicine.  Glad to get that cleared up finally, especially since I’ve been wondering lately if I’m just a hardheaded misguided relic.  People ask me what I “do” and honestly? I often don’t know what to say.  It’s hard to explain.  Plus one doesn’t want to sound like one is issuing an invitation to the Hall of Windchimes and Unicorns.  

So.  Other than that? Just waiting for the Partner to return so I can make my visit to the Shrine of Trader Joe’s.  And, it IS Friday.  We made it again!  Ghastly failure was at times a matter of touch and go, just like in A DANCE TO THE MUSIC OF TIME, but we made it once again.  For which I am thankful.

Another Week

Here we are again.  Thankfully, really.  Things to do, plans to execute.  However.  Elephants are dying of thirst in Kenya.  There’s algae in  Arctic waters.  There’s all the ridiculousness of every single thing, every day.   Like website weirdnesses, supply snafus and disappearances…just…ALL of it.  Not to mention, more Sarah Palin.

I guess what’s eating me these days is this.  I wonder if this pain in my chest will ever go away.  I’m starting to think maybe it won’t.   We were talking over the weekend about how everyone is so focussed on doing just what it takes to get through a day and disregarding whatever else is in front of them, and how that relates to the ever rising stress levels in society and the world and probably, heck, out in space.  What a thought! We’re polluting the cosmos with bad vibes. As much as I work toward calm and balance I still am hounded, in a way, by the suffering I “feel” going on all around me.   The trick is balancing that awareness with the resoluteness it takes to do the work before one at any given time.   Whatever it may be.  Brain surgery, washing the dishes, or walking down the sidewalk and not acting as though you, and only you, are there.

I read an interview with Julia Butterfly Hill, of tree sitting fame.  She said she was deluged with feelings of pain from all around her and while that informs her work it is also exhausting.  At first I thought, uh, let’s see here…But then I thought, this is, in fact, so.   And you HAVE to let it inform your work to be of service to others, which I believe is Why We’re Here.  But it is difficult, and it is difficult not to try to not feel that discord and whatever it is.  The collapse of one’s emotional infrastructure does not lead anywhere productive.  And one must take heart from the good work people are doing all over, often unnoticed and unremarked.   Maintain a sense of humor and all.  But sometimes it just reduces me to tears.  However, I carry on.  The Dalai Lama said one simple way to reduce suffering in the world was to smile, and that really is true.   Tootles. And smile!


Really.  I made it, once again.  Or almost.  The day’s not over, let’s be honest.  But we live in hope. One of my clients has another acronym I like: So Happy It’s Thursday. That was quite apropos yesterday when I Did Battle With A Bank.  Of course they won, but to directly experience  the way things are getting done now is completely mind boggling. Just another element in this week that kept it feeling like a cross between being dragged behind the bumper of a speeding car and finally Seeing the Light.

The fun part of the week was deciding to be ordained through the Universal Life Church.  You may now refer to me as Reverend Boozilla Mom, Gentle Reader.   I can’t really explain why I did this, except that a big part of what I do is, in fact, about the life of the spirit, I am Decidedly Non-Denominational (as in not particularly one thing or another but some of all perhaps), and it (uh…see below) Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time.  So far, it appears to have increased my patience quota by a tad.  So, that’s good.    A news flash just coming in, adding to the fun part of the week, is that We Have Tomatoes in our garden.   THAT really IS good news.

The not fun part of the week was, of course, the Banking Part.  Net net, I attempted to do some post towel-throw-in (see below) refinancing.  A minor sort of refinancing, in truth, but something that would help Team Boozilla make it through these “financially challenging times.”  Did not get what I asked for.  Did not get what I wanted.  Did not receive any communication from The Bank in Question about my application.  Received, in fact, bupkiss from them.  That is, until what to my wondering eyes should appear on my online banking statement but a strange transaction that could only be related to the Attempted Refinance. I think I did very well on the phone call, really.  Especially seeing as how I know the JERK  individual I finished the interlude on the phone with was probably making a higher hourly wage than I ever did as Slave Girl of the Divorce Court.   I know this how? I know someone who just got a job with a bailed out bank and is making a quite astonishingly goodly and high hourly wage, is how.  So, after smarmily telling me that yes, it WOULD be nice if the bank communicated with me about my application and told me what the —- they were doing, and that SHOULD be what they do,nono, just,  no, that isn’t what they do.  And of course they couldn’t give me what I asked for.   Oh, please.  Pretend you’re in front of the big library in Manhattan, the one with the lions? And the charming young man with a card table and three cups with dice under them?  And besides, what are banks for AFTER ALL.  Get.A.Grip.  So, net net again, there is a very tiny overall improvement with this new situation, with which I am trying to remain calm in the knowledge..uh…thereof.  I very much enjoyed the portion of our chat where I asked if I was going to have to pay for the call.  Well, yes, usually you have to “pay for the call when you talk to a human.”  Not, however, apparently this time.  Which just confirmed my overall sense of where the whole thing was going.  I think you know where that is.

Meanwhile, we are going to have a garage sale this weekend.  More like an earring sale, actually.  So it was odd going through all those old earrings and inadvertently reliving the occasions when I wore them.  I think it is best to just keep going in life, and not dwell on the past.  I’m hoping my collection will make its way out into the world and bring others the enjoyment it brought me.  There will also be some Sasha of London shoes, if you’re in the neighborhood!  Beaded high heeled boots, people.  Indeed, I was not always as you see me now.  The tomatoes help, though, in those tough moments when I think about the shoes I used to know.