Postcards from My Soul

Let me start by saying I’m fine.  I’ll be fine.  :) When I was in high school I was infatuated with bag ladies (I don’t know why we used that term in the 80’s to describe a houseless woman).  I imagined what it would be like to be without obligations, complete freedom, no one telling me what to do, to not give a shit what anyone thought and only having enough possessions that would fit in a shopping cart. I was always wearing a flash dance sweatshirt situation in this fantasy.   Then sometime in my 30’s my biggest fear became ending up a crazy homeless cat lady, in this nightmare I was always sad.  I remember talking with my therapist about this fear.  I recounted to her that when I was married, and fantasizing about divorce, murder or death, I remember wanting nothing more than a small house and big garden and living alone with my pets, and being happy and at peace, in this scenario it was always sunny.  Two weeks ago I sold that small house with a big garden, in hopes of moving to t

  Well, I woke up this morning, I got myself a beer. Well,  I woke up this morning, and I got myself a beer . The future's uncertain, and the end is always near.    Oh wait, no, no, that’s a Door’s song and this is my bloggy email thinger.   Here’s a snippet from my future and what I did there yesterday.  I woke up this morning as the sun was peeking into my window to see if I was really still asleep. I usually wake up before the sun hits my window but yesterday had worn me out so I made myself go back to sleep at dawn as the birds, instead of revelry, sang a soft lullaby.  I sat up and thanked the universe for everything that had led me to this place and time.  For all the bad relationships, for all the good friendships, shitty jobs, odd jobs, risks and a vague dream of something that I could feel more than see.  I stood up, said good morning to my cozy home and doggie. She has patiently been waiting for her breakfast. I haven’t had a dog since 2005, but now living in the count

Some of you may think I’m still camping in my backyard and garage.  Although I am still sleeping in the garage, I have the rest of my house back!  It was a relief for sure! Did it help my anxiety? Slightly.   This may be a longer post than usual and it may be slightly confusing so feel free to ask clarifying questions. :)  If you’ve had any lengthy conversations with me as of late, you’ll know that I’m currently obsessed with the Enneagram.  If you don’t know what it is, the simplest answer is that it explains the reasons behind how and why we think and behave.  It’s more than a personality type.  I’ll leave resources at the end of this for you, should you have interest in it.   If you’ve traveled with me, camped with me, gone on a walk with me or spent a lot of time with me you’ll know that I am often on high alert.  I am often consciously or unconsciously looking for potential danger and a solution to keep us from it.  It’s one of the reasons I prefer to drive if we go somewhere toge

I don’t pretend to be an expert on the topic of ra cism.  I do want to be knowledgeable and helpful. But this woman is an expert.  So if you do nothing else today watch this 7 min clip of Jane Elliot on the tonight show with Jimmy Fallon.   https://youtu.be/f2z-ahJ4uws See resources at the bottom for film recommendations from a trusted source.  I have always thought of myself as a protector of sorts (see future post re:  the pandemic and my enneagram type) and I remember having curiosity about other cultures and people of different skin colors since I was a child.  I would cheer for the underdog if I was interested in sports.  I don’t even know if making an analogy for nonwhite people as an underdog is appropriate. However, in America, it seems to me, nonwhite people and especially black people have an additional ongoing battle.  Up until I submitted my saliva for genetic testing I thought my Heritgage was Nez Perce.  I still think that in my heart. (and of course I question the validi

 Week 1.  I wondered how much weirder things could get as I rinsed my mini-peppers in the washing machine fill steam.  My neighbors may wonder the same thing when they see me cooking on my camp stove on the back patio.  Only time will tell I thought.   I could hear coughing in the other rooms inside the house, from my makeshift studio apartment in my garage, making me cringe but also I was feeling relieved that I chose to move out of the main house.  No one was actually sick in the house, but the anxiety and stress and washing my hands after touching any of the shared things or being in the shared spaces had taken a slight toll on my nerves and my hands. Moving out to socially distance myself from my *roommate seemed like my best bet at a little relief.  After two weeks of using a cooler for my food, and using the toilet in the little RV named **June In the day, and a kitty litter bucket to pee in at night, I finally had a little fridge on the back patio and a composting toilet in the