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What is WRONG with You People?!

Jul1
Thank god there was Zoom Cooking with Amy this evening…

I was flattened to learn yesterday that only eight percent, 8%, of Americans understand that the BBB, Big ‘Beautiful’ Bill, includes massive cuts to Medicaid! Hello? Where have you been, you 92%? The bill passed the Senate this morning with a tie breaker from JD Vance who said, “…the minutiae of the Medicaid policy — is immaterial compared to the ICE money and immigration enforcement provisions.” The bill is back in the House of Representatives for voting as soon as tomorrow, because not-my-president wants it on his desk by July 4.

Without our Indivisible zoom this afternoon followed by zoom cooking, I’d have been still an irate mess tonight.

The Senate’s version eliminated a few egregious provisions like the massive public lands selloff, but added things that would cut even more from Medicaid for a total loss to this societal safety network of around a trillion dollars, causing around 12-17 million people to lose their health insurance over time, and three million more would lose SNAP benefits, so if you’re on food stamps you’re gonna get hungry. Many children and seniors will suffer food insecurity and other horrors. It’s a complicated network of interdependence, but these cuts will result in less available and more costly healthcare for everyone, no matter where you get your health insurance.

We used storebought puff pastry and two sizes of cookie cutters to make the shapes, folding the small circles over a glass rim and then smooshing the large circle on top.

The bill is tricky. It provides a few minor immediate and short term tax benefits for regular people, but many more diverse, substantial, and permanent tax cuts to billionaires and corporations. Take a moment to reflect on the differences here: minor and short-term for us, versus SUBSTANTIAL and PERMANENT for the super rich. The combination of cutting many programs that regular Americans rely on for all kinds of things from medical care to wildfire protection to clean energy incentives and protections (and too many more to list here), funneling our tax dollars to the wealthiest few in the nation, and tripling the ICE budget, would increase the national deficit to more than 3 trillion dollars. I’m using the most basic language I can, stripping the complexity down to bare bones, to try to help you see that this bill WILL MAKE YOU SUFFER, no matter who you are, no matter what you’ve been deluded into believing will make your life better. I am silently shrieking inside my head to 92% of Americans and 51% of congress, “What is wrong with you people?!”

Turn the glass upside down and free the dough to make little puff pastry flowers.

Locally here in Delta County where I live, “about 1 in 4 people—that’s 24.1% of our neighbors—use Medicaid, known here as Health First Colorado. Even more striking, half the kids in Delta County schools rely on Medicaid or CHIP. Medicaid pays for much more than doctor visits. It helps cover hearing and vision screenings at school, mental health support, speech therapy, dental care, and more. If the funding is cut, those services could vanish—and families will be left to pay out-of- pocket. Medicaid also supports home and community-based services to help elders stay in their home—all at risk if this bill passes. Finally, and possibly the WORST outcome: A national study also found that Delta County Memorial Hospital is one of six rural hospitals in Colorado that could close if this bill passes. That’s our hospital. Our ER. Our local jobs. The ripple effect on our local businesses. This bill doesn’t work for Delta County. We can still stop it. Call Rep. Jeff Hurd at (202) 225‑4676. Tell him: Vote NO on the Big, Beautiful Bill.” [Thanks Janine, for letting me use these excerpts from your LTE, I couldn’t have said it better.]

Then we mashed up 85-ish grams of blue cheese with half a beaten egg.

The trickiest part is that this will mostly happen over time. The first benefit cuts are scheduled to take place shortly after the 2026 midterm elections. So you’ll see less tax on tips and a few other things right away, but you won’t lose SNAP and Medicaid benefits until you’ve already voted again for the sociopaths who stripped them away. And some of the biggest losses for regular Americans contained in the BBB won’t go into effect until after the 2028 presidential election. That’s right. You will vote yet again for the cadre of creeps who are gutting every federal provision that most Americans rely on for a decent quality of life, before you see that quality of life plummet. Don’t take my word for it. Read the bill yourself, or read the handful of media sources who are actually reading the bill. Listen to some of the keenest analysts break it down for you. That’s not me. I’m just the air raid siren telling you to pay attention right now. And then do something about it: call your congressperson TODAY to demand accountability and truth, and demand that they vote NO.

Then we spooned the blue cheese and egg mixture into the little flower cups.

The healthcare ramifications are really the tip of the cascading iceberg. It is definitely one BIG bill, but there’s nothing beautiful about it unless you’re filthy rich or not even a human being but a big business. And the Big Bill isn’t the only White House decree that is going to make life a lot less comfortable for your kids and grandkids. It’s overwhelming, really. Birthright citizenship can now be stripped away for murky reasons. The LGBTQ youth option on the national suicide prevention hotline has been defunded. The fossil fuel industry wins all around at the expense of clean energy, intensifying the climate crisis. The list goes on. The bill is absolutely appalling and will insidiously, slowly, eat away at all that makes our country truly great. Which, I’m sorry, is not old white straight men.

Brush the dough with the other half egg, and bake in a 375℉ oven for around 30 minutes.

The separation of powers that we learned was fundamental to the structure of our democracy has crumbled. There is just under half a Congress fighting to preserve our citizenship rights, our civil rights, our rights to OUR taxes paying for our basic needs. The other half of the Legislative branch, and the top tier of the Judicial branch have ceded all power to the Executive branch which is run by one miserable old white man and his cult followers. Wake UP, America. You don’t have to be WOKE to pay attention to what’s really happening in the White House. Do not be blinded by the rah-rah bombs bursting ICE fueled distractions. Take back the true meaning of the American flag: one nation indivisible with liberty and justice for all.

The finished treats look a little less appealing than I’d hoped, with a slightly brown crust on the green cheese filling, but the pastry browned nicely and they tasted delicious!

I can’t help but wonder if I’ve convinced anyone to learn more about what’s at stake here, and to make their voices heard in the unhallowed halls of congress. I hope so. If even one neighbor calls Jeff Hurd as a result of reading this post and tells him to vote NO on H.R. 1, my hours writing this, my burning rage, will have been worth it. If even a few others in Colorado or any other state are moved to make one phone call, download the 5 Calls app, share this post with a friend, or join the movement to protect our rights, my day will have been made.

Having devoted much time and energy today to this urgent situation, I relax into gratitude. I am grateful for the friends and neighbors who are also working to defeat this Big Bad Bill. I have done all that I can about it today, and there was so much more to this day that was actually beautiful. There was Zoom Cooking with Amy. Papa Blue has been teaching his babies to fly and hunt just beyond the fence, and dipping through the yarden throughout the day. As Amy and I enjoyed our supper, Papa Blue flew in for a sip at the birdbath which sits on the post that Amy mosaic’d many years ago.

Down at the pond, the tadpoles keep growing, and growing.

And the day started out with a wildfire up on Mendicant Ridge. I had just noticed the smoke and opened the phone to message the Bad Dogs who live below the ridge, and saw a message from them asking if I could see the smoke. This inspired me to create a What’s App group for about eight neighbors: we all have different perspectives, and among us can spot the valley, the mountains to the east, and the mesa to the west. We can each see a piece of the puzzle, and none of us the whole thing. It’s another great example of interdependence. The chat buzzed throughout the day with updates as the Crawford and Hotchkiss volunteer fire departments controlled the blaze in rugged, steep terrain; just the kind of place a fire likes to lose control. Some could see the chopper dipping into the reservoir to haul water, some couldn’t stop watching it, and some felt it shudder through their bedroom. I’m grateful for my neighbors watching out for one another, for the firefighters, for the technology that allows all this interconnectedness. I’m grateful for the Watch Duty app that also relies on volunteers and a network of observers to issue wildfire alerts and updates nationally, since a lot of federal wildfire and weather experts are already or soon will be out of jobs and those warning systems will dry up. Everything is connected. Your wellbeing depends on everyone else’s.

Expectations

Jun27

I’ve been exploring expectations today, and looking at some of mine which are realistic, and some which are unrealistic.

Sometimes I don’t recognize my expectations as expectations. Because the phoebes and the scrub jays fledged a short distance at a time, I thought the bluebirds might peek out of the nest cavity for a day or two, and then flutter down a little way. Kathleen said no, they’ll just fly straight out. Some research seemed to confirm that, saying “the first flight is awkward, in a straight line with nonstop wingbeats… from 10 to 55 yards,” and that a parent usually accompanies the fledgling and remembers where it perches. But I also read that sometimes they can’t fly that far, or drop straight to the ground if they’re weak. I stirred together what I read, what Kathleen said, and what I’d seen of other species in real life or on nest cams, and created a safe landing zone with various perches across the patio outward from the nest. Then I waited and watched.

I selectively remembered bits of information to form an expectation of how and when they’d fledge, and arranged my days to be sure I wouldn’t miss it. In fact, it started without my recognizing it. I missed a couple of hours yesterday and most of today, but I think I actually saw one first flight yesterday, and thought it was one of the parents. When I came home from an appointment this afternoon, I may have caught another one out the corner of my eye while I was on a phone call. But I still dwelt in my expectation of what it would look like, and it wasn’t until I noticed a fluttering bird in a treetop with the male bluebird that the truth dawned on me. My expectation of how the bluebirds would fledge was sketchy and unrealistic.

Meanwhile, the scrub jay babies are learning to fill up at the feeder, play in the water bowl, and peck at grasshoppers. And the house finch chicklets are chasing their parents around through the trees and onto the feeder begging. It’s very busy in the yarden.

As far as my healing hip, I’ve kept pretty realistic expectations for the most part. After nine months, I got complacent and over-exerted getting up from a tadpole pedicure last week, and have been limping ever since. I finally called the doctor and they wanted me to come in today. I realistically expected that I’d get a competent evaluation. It’s realistic for an American to expect quality, affordable healthcare, and for a senior citizen such as myself to expect Medicare to pay for most of it. But sadly, that expectation is gonna have to change if the regime gets its budget bill passed.

Because the setback pain extended from the hip to the kneecap they x-rayed my knee as well. I was grateful to learn that it looks strong and healthy, except for an arthritic patella.

The One Big Bad Bill delivers nothing but grift to billionaires and corporations and misery and privation to regular Americans. Yes, I’m exaggerating, but not much. I am sure there are some provisions which will benefit some subgroups of American citizens, but most of us will lose bigly. Ag experts say the bill has the worst farm policy they’ve ever seen; despite claims it will reduce the federal deficit it will increase it by trillions; national parks and forests, wilderness areas, and pristine watersheds are among the millions of acres of OUR PUBLIC LANDS, which we as Americans own collectively for the common good, that are slated to be sold to the highest bidder for privatization, logging, development, raping and pillaging. Imagine drill rigs smack in the center of Yellowstone. Countless miles of critical habitat and wild lives will be destroyed as well. Essential ecological balances will be tripped and climate chaos will explode exponentially. I’m not really exaggerating about this part.

Is it realistic to expect I’ll have this sweater finished by autumn? Yes it is.

And millions of Americans will lose Medicaid with billions of dollars and hundreds of direct and indirect benefits on the chopping block. Older Americans will see Medicare benefits dribble away and costs rise from a hidden provision that will require cuts to Medicare over the next decade. Private insurance premiums will skyrocket. And this brings me to Colorado District 3 and our so-called representative Congressman Jeff Hurd. His was arguably the swing vote that pushed this bill through the House initially, after he promised his constituents that he would not vote to cut Medicaid.

His district has the largest number of Medicaid recipients in the state. You can look it up. I’m sick of thinking about his betrayal. If you live in CD3, this article is a must read to understand why you might lose your rural hospital – and why I and my community are flooding Rep. Hurd’s offices with phone calls insisting that he vote against the Big Bad Bill when it comes back to the House after the Senate approves it, in time to be passed by July 4. That’s next Friday. His phone number is 202-225-4676.

Obligatory so-simple-so-delicious photo of homemade frozen waffles, happy bacon, a mangled though still runny local egg, sour cherries, and organic maple syrup, yesterday’s brunch.

If you live in rural America, or if you get Medicaid benefits through your state health department, or if you are enrolled in Medicare, or get ACA subsidized health insurance, you need to understand what’s at stake here, and let your senators and house reps know how you feel about the prospect of their gutting your healthcare. You can use the 5 Calls app to easily identify and call your representatives. 5 Calls provides a short script for each of a number of up-to-the-minute issues to choose from. These calls matter. Save our healthcare, save our rural hospitals, save our national parks, save our democracy, save our sanity. Is it realistic to expect my words to motivate you to pay attention and start making calls? I don’t know. Is it realistic to expect our representatives to pay attention to our concerns? I’m not sure but I think so. Is it realistic to expect our elected officials to defend our rights if we stick our heads in the sand and say and do nothing? Absolutely not. We have very little time left to try to influence our Senators and Representatives before a final vote on this catastrophic bill. Make some calls.

Vanilla Bean Ice Cream

Jun10

I was grateful to get home today knowing that I had vanilla bean ice cream in the freezer. But before that, I was grateful for so much more.

I was grateful to Pork Central for Wrensitting while I spent the afternoon in the dentist’s chair. They took such good care of her and I didn’t worry a bit, even knowing that the Mother of Topaz was in the same house and might take exception to a tiny dingo in her space.

I was grateful to the great team at Heritage Family Dental in Paonia for their kindness and skill. Even though I got home feeling like they’d punched me in the face. I appreciated the ‘tooth pillow’ for the left side so my mouth could rest open on a piece of foam instead of having to hold it open myself; and the dark glasses to protect my eyes from the harsh light and the tooth-dust mist from my open mouth. I was especially grateful for nitrous oxide, so that even though I could hear (and smell the burnt tooth smell from) the grinding, I didn’t care too much. I was grateful that part didn’t last much longer than an hour… and the next part was fascinating.

Once all the hard work was done, they packed something around my gum around the tooth they had ground down and refilled, then brought in a little beeping singing wand that scanned the lower jaw, upper jaw, and the bite, and from these scans the amazing technology created a model crown, and more amazing technology ground it right there in the next room, and then fired it at 3000 degrees and it came out smooth and shining. Much brighter white, I might add, than any of my natural teeth. Oh well! A small price to pay… though in actual dollars it was pretty hefty.

The computer model created from the scanner to inform the machine that carves the crown.
The grinder, carving a crown out of zirconium. I waited about 45 minutes from the time they scanned til the time she came back in and cemented the new tooth protection in place.

I missed hanging out in the yard this afternoon, but I was sure grateful to get home in time for sunset. And to be able to swing by the Arbol Farmers’ Market in town park and pick up a few tomato starts, and to pick up Wren from next door, and to come home and zoom with a Grateful Gathering, and to plant tomatoes after that, and then watch the moon rise. Oh! and the ice cream? That was dinner. Much of the day spent largely outside of my comfort zone, stretching in the Growth Zone, and a whole ‘nother twenty-four hours ahead of me tomorrow, if I am fortunate enough to wake up alive.

Jun8

It only took a month to finally capture a western tiger swallowtail. I’ve seen one occasionally flitting about the yard but the conditions have not yet been quite right to get a picture—until today.

The wild butterfly bush (Buddleia alternifolia) burst into bloom this past week. It took a few days before its perfume began to fill the yard and draw in the swallowtail who spent most of the day feeding from its many laden branches.

I had a couple of work zooms today and couldn’t bear to do them inside, so I brought the technology outside and sat in the shade under the deck; grateful for zoom, grateful for the deck shade. And most grateful for the trust of the bluebirds. He flew in from gathering insects in the yard and perched over my shoulder on the deer skull just outside the hole in the adobe wall where they’re nesting. In a moment, she fluttered out of the hole and joined him. They both observed me carefully; then she flew away and he remained awhile. I was entranced, and I think we were all three reassured. I’m hopeful I’ll be watching when the chicks fledge.

Where’s Wren? She’s off ahead as we enjoy an evening ramble through the elegant old junipers, exemplars of resilience.

The light was a little strange as evening settled. When we reached the top of the ridge on the way home and could see the horizon through the trees there was strong haze dimming the mountains. Maybe diffuse smoke from Canadian wildfires, maybe why some of us are suffering extra allergies—we can’t bear to stay inside but the air quality isn’t as pure as it looks at high noon. But first, we watched moonrise from our new favorite sitting log in the southern woods.

Nighthawks screeked and dove overhead as we wended our way home just as the sun went down.

Even after sunset the day’s work wasn’t done. Grasshopper mitigation continues: 24 hours after neem spray the front line seems to be holding. There were just a few grasshoppers in the raised beds throughout the day. But I’m not taking chances. There were a lot of little feral lettuces in amongst the onions. To protect them, and to remove the competition from the onions, I popped them out and planted them in the new bed where I could cover them. The cover will cool them with a little shade, and keep out marauders. I hope.

I look forward to another brand new day tomorrow.

“Waking up this morning, I smile. Twenty-four brand new hours are before me. I vow to live fully in each moment and to look at all beings with eyes of compassion.”

Thich Nhat Hanh

Outer Chaos, Inner Peace

May21
The lilacs, the tattered Mourning Cloak, the day, all winding down…

What would it feel like if there were no problem to solve? I’ve been meditating with this question for a couple of days. I know there are plenty of problems to solve, big and little problems, from what’s for lunch to how we save the planet. There’s a huge problem with the regime dismantling democracy, decimating government services, and demolishing the middle class. which would be great to solve and we’re working at it. Millions of Americans! But way too many millions more simply have their fingers in their ears, heads in the sand, eyes closed to reality. We need to amplify the truth at every opportunity.

There’s a big one coming up on June 14. But before that, there’s a massive threat to every American who is not a billionaire, and that’s most of us, in this “big beautiful budget bill” being voted on imminently. Make some noise! Medicaid is on the line, along with countless other programs that benefit most Americans. Our local healthcare system, Delta Health, could be gutted, along with most rural hospitals in the country. Learn more anywhere anyone is telling the truth, and Jessica Craven’s daily newsletter, Chop Wood Carry Water, is a great place to start. This bill is savage and wrong. So yeah, there are problems to be solved.

But what if, just for fifteen or thirty minutes each day, you could restore your nervous system with a deep, conscious rest during which, just for that short time, you could let your mind quit trying to solve problems? It’s been helping me.

I woke this morning to discover a hard frost overnight had burnt these lovely potato sprouts photographed just last night. Most of the scarlet salvias also died back.

Today is a perfect of example of how practicing this effortless mindfulness helped me sustain inner peace. After discovering freeze damage in the garden, I rushed off this morning for a ten a.m. appointment the provider had scheduled for noon; I let it go, did some other errands first, and came back later. Great news from Phil’s: the collaborative car fix last week is sufficient! But it was one glitch after another besides that, a couple of long delays, a couple of places closed on Tuesday; and, while taking the scenic route because I had time, a traffic jam. I kept my sense of ease, humor, and patience through it all. Just a day unfolding instead of a series of problems to solve.

I appreciated the care the movers took extricating the van from the tight spot, and instead of fretting about the delay I thought how grateful the homeowners on each side of the road must be.

Along the way we stopped at the town park so Wren could stretch her legs, and I looked for the stumps. A couple of huge trees had recently been cut for safety reasons. I know the guys who did the job, and admired the clean flat surface they left behind. I recalled one of them telling me how they got harassed while they were making the park safer. Later I counted the rings as best I could from the photo and was not surprised to pass one hundred.

Even so, I was sure grateful to get home to my little sanctuary. I had food in the fridge for lunch, repaired hearing aids, a new library book, a morning’s adventures with my values intact to reflect upon, a good zoom meeting, and a pond full of frogs to relax with.

Wren examines the day’s catch from the smart feeder on her iPad.

When the day’s work was done, I decanted the lilac cordial. It fizzed a lot when I opened the jar and poured, but then it settled down.

I’m sorry to report that it tasted primarily of weak honey. Lilacs, lacking any essential oil, are notoriously challenging to preserve. I suppose there’s a faint floral note, and it was light and refreshing on ice. And it sure looked lovely in the late evening sun.

Lilac Therapy

May12

There’ve been years when I didn’t spend a moment with the lilac patch; when I was too busy moving too fast from one thing to another to do more than snip a flower cluster to bring inside once or twice during the fleeting bloom season. One year the weather was cold, wet, muddy and the season was so short I missed it completely. What was I thinking? All that time I wasted…

This year, I’ve been grateful to be able to spend hours a day for days in a row doing Lilac Therapy. This is a scientifically proven approach to calming the fuck down. I move the folding chair into whatever patch of shade is available for the time of day, and sit. I read a little, write a little, text someone now and then, do a Wordle… get up now and then and move a sprinkler, refill my water bottle, return to the chair. Mostly, though, I just spend a lot of time breathing. I wish I could smell on the exhale as well as the inhale.

When I hear a big enough buzz I’ll pick up the Husband Camera and capture a few high speed shots. The Holy Grail for the Husband Camera is a hummingbird sipping lilac nectar, but I’m happy for a butterfly, or even a bumblebee. I reflect on my sadness that I’ve seen only one or two honeybees, that there’s a paucity of bumblebees as well, but comfort myself that there are lots of smaller native bees. I try not to be attached to outcome. That’s not the point of Lilac Therapy.

Resting in open awareness of senses is the point. Mindful of breath, scent, sound, colors, textures, shapes, warm sun, cool shade, the caress of the breeze, cool fine powdery clay under my soles, frogs calling down at the pond, jays cawing, finches singing, and swallows silently zipping overhead; clouds streaming, gathering, spreading in bluebird sky and bluebirds dropping to the ground for bugs. Breathing. Aware of thoughts, feelings, sensations arising, flowing, ceasing. Resting.

Wren digs herself a spot in the sunshine and rests there. Then she gets up and digs a little spot in the shade and rests there. Then she moves back to the sun. We are constantly thermoregulating. Sometimes she hears or smells something and leaves the fenced enclosure to chase it down, then returns when she’s ready.

Topaz slips through the spaces between wires, coming and going as the mood moves her, also moving from shade to sun to shade; mostly shade. There’s an occasional frisson when she wants on my lap, but Wren’s envy response is calming after three years so Topaz sneaks in some lap time.

As a culture, we do not value true relaxation. (Not the way cats do.) We value vacations, adventures, competing, fun, collecting experiences of the world, but we don’t really value doing nothing, simply being. The more I sit in the ephemeral scent of these flowers, the deeper the layers of tension slowly melt. I repeatedly give myself permission to stay here.

A clearwing hummingbird moth vies for the blooms with various bees, beeflies, and flies.

Just when I think Okay, I guess I’ll go inside and wash some dishes, another waft of sweet scent washes over me, or a tiger swallowtail flits by so close to landing, that I decide to stay just a little while longer. Surely she will land on her next pass.

An orchard bee buzzes a digger bee. There’s more excitement than one might expect, sitting with lilacs; more attacks, near misses, and midair collisions. Every now and then the Husband Camera catches one.

The tiger swallowtail never lands, but a checkerspot shows up and leads me on a merry pursuit around the patch, wanting to land high in the center where it’s hard to catch her. But we do. Even with the help of Audubon, Kaufman, iNaturalist, and the World Wide Web, I can’t determine whether she is a Variable Checkerspot or Edith’s Checkerspot. It doesn’t matter. Either way it’s a great way to wrap up an exciting, restful day.

Hanging Out with the Lilacs

May8

After a full, good day of work we made time to hang out with the lilacs this evening. All the right conditions have come together this spring to cause lots of blooms at all levels of the shrubs: tall older growth, short slender new shoots, and everything in between.

I set up a folding chair in the southwest corner of the exclosure and simply sat and smelled. There wasn’t much insect action at that hour. The breeze was soft and sweet, and the little mammals each enjoyed the time in their different ways. Wren snoofled and snuffled around, while Topaz sat, stretched, rolled, a little apart in a last patch of sun.

Lilac bloom doesn’t last long: this annual phenomenon embodies the essence of impermanence. I make a point to savor it as much as possible while it’s happening.

Where’s Wren?

Balance

Apr28

It’s been an emotional week. I’m sad the benevolent pope died, adding one more layer of global uncertainty. I learned of the death of a significant ex and through his obituary of the prior deaths of two of his siblings I was fond of. The DOGE disaster continues to wreak havoc on the country. Friends are suffering various losses in ways I can’t ameliorate. The mental/emotional tension before, during and after a couple of fraught conversations with neighbors sapped more of my energy and attention than I would have wished—but certainly far less than it would have before developing mindfulness skills.

There’s a big stew of suffering swirling inside. Finding peace in the yarden has been extra important. Most mornings I’ve sat at the pond for coffee after meditation, and enjoyed the blossoming crabapple, the frogs, and the tiny dingo’s delight in following her nose and her whims around. Sitting quietly for awhile each day with water burbling and leopard frogs gurgling keeps things in perspective. There are at least six fat, happy frogs in the pond. I’m grateful for this sanctuary and all the conditions that allow me to savor moments of peace and joy.

I’m grateful for making time to finally cook this so simple, so delicious chicken florentine that came together in about half an hour.

I made myself eat only one portion last night so I can enjoy leftovers for three more meals, which I did for lunch today: In the next-to-last giant spinach tortilla, I rolled up lettuce, chicken florentine, avocado and mayo for a yummy wrap.

As I wrestle with my personal patriarchal demons, Mother Nature nurtures me. Is there a more feminine shrub than the lovely lilac? I think not. You’d think I’d have learnt by now to be comfortable with aggressively assertive men, having grown up under the Colonel’s temper. But maybe that’s why it’s still so hard. And the National Abusive Relationship we’re all in is a constant low-grade trigger that I keep trying to write about and shying away from. One of these days I’ll find the words…

Other good things that kept me in balance this week included some wonderful connections with old friends, being ready for the first hummingbird who arrived just after noon, and seeing the little cherry tree in full bloom. And satire:

ROME (The Borowitz Report)—A man who fell asleep during Pope Francis’s funeral was “already going to Hell,” God clarified on Sunday.

Although snoozing during the pontiff’s funeral was “beyond rude,” the Almighty said that the man clinched his place in the netherworld “decades ago.”

“If I hadn’t already made up My mind, the last hundred days would have made him a slam dunk for eternal damnation,” He said. “I mean, deporting a two-year-old? Come on.”

The Heavenly Father said the man’s decision to wear a blue suit at the funeral “wasn’t a factor” in his going to Hell, but was nevertheless “incredibly assholic.”

In another observation from the funeral, God noted, “Interestingly, Sleepy Joe Biden managed to stay awake.”

Looking Up

Apr23

After picking up mail from the top of the driveway, savoring the atmosphere.

Wren’s Very Big Day

Apr14

We both had a big day. At seven months post surgery this was the first day that I ventured out into the world without a cane or walking pole. Our morning started with coffee and frog patrol at the pond, and we were graced with at least four leopard frogs and one delicate butterfly.

I love butterfly names. Checking the National Wildlife Federation butterfly guide app, I entered habitat, region, and the colors orange, white, gray. I might as well have typed ‘orange-tipped wings’ because her name is Sara Orangetip. Our Telesangha morning meditation was about Amazement, and I looked at the world this whole day through that lens. It was delightful, and Sara Orangetip was just one of many amazing bits of the day.

Wren rested in the sun on her handmade rug (she didn’t make it, Garden Buddy made it for her), while I watered some of the garden and took stock of today’s new blossoms, including the wild plum which has burst open over the past three days…

… and the little red tulips which started opening yesterday.

After our grueling morning at work, we set off for the audiologist to get my annual hearing exam and update hearing aids. I wouldn’t normally have brought her in, but didn’t want to leave her in the car wearing the donut for safety reasons, or not wearing the donut for certain she’d lick her leg raw again. She was such a good little girl! Mostly sat quietly in my lap until we were checking out, when she sat quietly on the floor hearing treat crinkles as the Dove chocolates jar on the counter was refilled. She did not get one of those treats, but I did.

The drive to the audiologist was amazing: through greening fields with snow-capped mountains ringing the north and east horizons, abundant sunshine, and not a single other car along the rolling fifteen mile country road between the highway and the outskirts of town. After our appointment we drove the second leg of the triangle that connects our tri-village valley, and to the end of Rogers Mesa for a little retail therapy. I felt almost carefree: no pain, no cane, and no mask, and that was amazing.

I know. So much for No-Buy New Year. I fell off that wheelbarrow at Afton’s Garden Center where Wren and I filled a cart with herbs, annuals, and perennials. This time of year, I simply cannot resist. And since this year has gone so much worse than anyone could have hoped, I allowed myself this afternoon retreat. Local readers, this is a wonderful family-owned small business; I’m proud to support them instead of a mail-order conglomerate.

There, with only a handful of other customers, I was amazed and grateful to encounter an old friend and her daughter and we enjoyed a long and meaningful catchup in the shade pavilion. In passing, we bemoaned last year’s grasshopper plague, and they assured me that the pest control guy had assured them that it won’t be nearly so bad this year. It was the wet spring, he said, and it’s been so dry this year; sadly, he said the brutal cold winter has nothing to do with limiting grasshopper population.

Back home, I was amazed by the vibrant forsythia in blazing bloom in the late afternoon sun. Thirsty and tired from our excursion, we both drank a lot of cool, clear water, and polished off the last of a pint of mint chip ice cream. Here in our little world, it was a lovely day, and that felt amazing.