The Thing I Have Been Wondering

It has been a rough year. That is no lie. We have had one challenge after another, and if this were a dark comedy one would recognize that it has been funny. Well, not funny, and yet I have laughed. We nearly escape a disaster or obstacle, we begin to emerge from a crisis when suddenly a new event reveals itself, and there isn' time, or for me, energy, to clean up the mess from the former emergency. I spend down time staring blankly into a void, trying to comprehend what has happend, what is happening. And I wrestle with my beliefs, because no matter how bad things are, remember "someone has it worse," and "it's not fatal, so snap out of it," and "that's life." No tenderness in this mindset, just guilt, shame, and a sense of failure for anything less than humble, courageous, and quiet. I am very well trained in the cultural norm of keeping private things private, and not making a fuss. I am also not convinced that this is such a healthy, fair, or necessary course to take. Being quiet, suppressing emotions, withdrawing, making myself small -none of these options have made me feel more capable, less sad or frightened, like a better person.

The thing I have been wondering is, would it be ok to make a list of the ridiculous number of hard, unfortunate, frustrating, scary things that have happened since February? I could go further back, honestly, but to be sure, as bad as things have been for a long while, I am particularly impressed and astounded by the last 6 months. Recently, someone else was recounting a few events we have survived, and I had forgotten them, the details, etc. But I have not felt relief from the trauma, from the disruption and upheaval. I haven't been able to process things, and feel some calm or solace, not even a little happy dance to declare "Yay, that's done, and we are going to be alright." One thing after another. It has been weird. Like, genuinely harsh in an unrelentling way, and I wonder if I made the list, if it would help me see that the weight I carry in my heart, as a hard knot in my middle, a dark cloud in my thinking, if the list would give me reason for my sadness and fear, and angst, and worry, for the sense of dread, for all the ways I feel. I want to test, and see if having it spelled out and examined, I could confront it and say, "Well, this makes sense. This is a lot of hard stuff, and so no wonder I feel tired, and out of sorts. No wonder things have been difficult to manage, and messy." And then, perhaps, too, I could be thankful for what we have survived, how we have navigated stuff, and addressed things, and come this far. I could be tender with myself and say, "It's okay. You've been doing your best. You are not _______ (all the critical, mean, judgemental things I tend to apply to myself, when I am not being a "model" citizen.)

That was a lot. And I am not sure it was entirely cohesive, intelligble. No matter. I am writing, like I would speak, if I had the will and courage: Urgently pressing the words up, so that I can get them out of me, before I clap a hand on my own mouth, hit delete. Don't make a fuss. Don't overshare. Be quiet.

Being small is not working. I don't feel well. I don't feel honest, or good, nor courageous. I feel drained, and capable of disappearing. I feel like my harshest critics have taken residence in my head, and I am liable to lose. Something. Maybe, it is the peace of mind of feeling safe and welcome in my own thoughts, and home, and life. Maybe that is what I am looking to reclaim, to not lose: Peace and acceptance in my own thinking, existence.

And maybe, too, the list would turn out to be shorter than I imagine. To be sure, there has been a lot, and I don't always remember all of it, but I accept that I may be conflating things, or pumping them up. Perhaps, everything would look less imposing, formidable, if it were jotted down, confined to a column, with periods. Also, and not to be toxically positive, I have been forthright and thankful, because in the midst of everything, I have seen beauty, and fostered it, too. I have enjoyed luxuries and conveniences, and resources, and had comforts. I have planted seeds, and gathered blossoms, and slept in a comfortable bed.

I have started seeing a therapist. And I don't relish sharing this because I am such an open book. I feel almost equally inclined to delete all of this as to hit publish. Something about blogging dares me to be accountable to myself, and I am still naively convinced I am more anonymous than I probably actually am. And, sometimes I go deep into "over-sharing" and feel utterly exposed and embarrassed, but then someone comments, "Me, too. I feel that way," and there is something genuine, comforting, reassurring about connecting, relating, feeling less alone, and that is worthwhile.

I think I will make that list. And I might go through and process some of my photos, and insert pretty moments between these paragraphs.

Not Planned

I was feeling a groove about posting again, and so pleased that I had even figured out some long standing mysteries with the code. This recent absence, sudden and long, was not planned.
One thing that made me reluctant to blog in recent years are the issues around "over sharing" and particularly sharing things that aren't my story to tell. Right now is one of those times. We are in the midst ofcoping with a sad and tragic event that happend two weeks ago. It has been traumatic, for many people, including (especially) Maria. And it has had ripple effects, that were initially more like crashing waves. The event was sudden, unexpected, sad, traumatic, and the waves have caused a long, hard list of big changes, painful decisions, and difficult challenges, plus grief.

Vague posts can be so annoying! I know. And it begs the question Why say anything at all? I am sharing something, anything, because this is genuine, this is our reality. It is, as yet, too tragic, too proximate and fragile and awful to disclose fully. It is too all consuming and central to everything we have been doing for 13 days, to deny or surpress.

I wish... many things. But one is that I had taken the time to put into words how lucky I felt as a mother of a young woman in college. I felt, everyday, that I could not have asked for, nor imagined, a more ideal housing experience for Maria. From the begininng, up until last week, it felt safe and healthy. These four young women, sharing an apartment on campus, were responsive and respectful, kind, mindful. The first year was such a happy arrangement, that they applied to be roommates, again, this year. My mind was at ease, my heart was thankful. I wish I had shared posts about the dinners they cooked together, the celebrations they made, how they regularly checked in with eachother, yet were mindful of eachothers' privacy, personal space. I wish I had shared at least one or two pictures of these bright, young women, being so capable, so happy.

For now... please, share your time and caring, whenever you can. Check in on your friends, even the ones that always seem so happy. We have been through hard years, maybe our young adults especially. I'm not sure they understand that things can get better, or that they matter more, to more people, than they may be able to comprehend. Tragedy can make horrible waves, and kindness can makes waves and ripples, too. We could all use more of those gentle, supportive waves... the kind that lift us up, bouyant, warm.

Some Views

If I had kept up with blogging, there would have been half a dozen, or so, posts about the cats, specifically about how Feynman has become something of a terror for Cairo. In all of my life I have never had a cat behave as Feynman has. His temperment and behavior turned on a dime, and he chases Cairo, mercilessly. He hisses and growls, and stalks him. It went on for weeks last spring, and then stopped. But then it starts up again. We are in a session even now. And as though on cue, Cairo just popped up on this desk. He is watching the door, wide eyed and vigilent. Feynman is surely out there, on the prowl. We have had to keep them in seperate rooms. Cairo will lose weight and fur, just from the anxiety, we suppose. Poor poor kitty.

Oh!! Would you look at that? Success! Finally, a successful search for the correct html code for making a space in the text. You guys, this is amazing, as well as humbling. This is such a fine example of how hard I have been struggling with even simple, basic tasks. Ever since the accident, it is like there are curtains, fog, walls, invisible barriers, and I fight and push and struggle to get through them, or sometimes something gives, and the fog lifts just long enough for me to grasp the situation and function. I have wanted to make spaces between paragrpahs for a couple of years and nothing I did worked. Now I know what to do, again. I want to celebrate the breakthroughs, the healing, but I am also worn down, and disheartened, because daily I am reminded that I lost so much, that I keep trying to be all better, but I am not. It feels as though I am only running into the broken bits, and the bits I cannot recover, and I feel so tired and defeated.

Dirty laundry. Oversharing. In the early days, I got a lot of advice and cautions about not oversharing, or getting too personal in my accounts of life and other's lives. Airing dirty laundry is one of those tricky things to balance in social media, blogging. And by the way, Cairo is sleeping on clean laundry, but of course the dirty laundry of that picture is that I am sharing an untidy life, an old and sullied chair, the unstaged, messy side. Funnily, I have an absolute dread of being seen, of my messes, and chaos, and untidy life, even as I share hints and glimpses, and confess readily: I am a terrible, no good homemaker, and I have only gotten worse.

Feynman. And Cairo.
And Sakamoto? Sakamoto is the least likely to be a target of Feynman's periodic snap and obsession, and maybe that's because Saki and Feynman are siblings. Or maybe it's because Saki is such a wholesome innocent, and makes himself practically invisible.

The backside of the Ratty and her bird friend. Do you like looking at the backside of embroidery? I do. And I like running my fingers across the stitches, especially the ones that are close togther and running in the same direction.
Etersheim is in North Holland. Noord Holland. Did I mention? I fell in love with the sound of Dutch, and studied it for over a year, just using Duolingo. Then I went to Sweden, and oh my! I fell in love with Sweden, and have been studying Swedish since the end of August. But last week I dreamt in Dutch, and I wonder if I should go back to practicing Nederlands. I am tempted to practice both.

Etersheim. I am in love with Etersheim, because it is restful and small and there are sheep and paths and fields. I stitched the name in linen thread that I found in a shop in Amsterdam. I want to stitch other names, too, of places I have visited, places I have been brave, daring, peaceful, inspired.

The whole rainbow was visible, end to end. I took that picture, too, but the sight of it makes me cringe, because our yard is a mess. It is so ridiculous that I never saw it coming! We planned about the accessory dwelling unit for years. We talked about taking out the pool, and changing the septic system, adding pits and new tanks, and how we would have to move tons of earth, not to mention concrete. I focused on the idea of a whole house replacing the pool, about construction and supplies, and paint, and moving things around... but I never anticipated our backyard, the parts not under the actual construction, being destroyed. I have lost count of how many trucks and cars, and men, and heavy machinery, and loads of lumber, stone, drywall, roofing... how much traffic was in the yard. The lawn was buried, scraped, buried again. The dust! OhMYGod. The dust. And not only our dust, but every neighbor, in every compass direction, was doing some kind of construction, so even if we were quiet, something was rumbling, hammering, digging, somewhere. It's been 14 years of nonstop work, at any of the houses next to ours. Anyway, our garden is a mess. It's not even a garden. It's something between a salvage yard and an abandoned lot, but with chickens, and stuff. Lots of stuff. And when it rains, it is muddy stuff. And weeds. Lots of weeds. I am not complaining. I am just saying that it is not pretty. And I never anticipated that we would have to start all over and try to restore things. But, yeah. We need to make that plan.

Here is some of the yard. Don't, please, say "It doesn't look that bad." This is a forgiving angle. And the sky is breathtaking. And the clouds are fluffy, like in a child's painting. We have an appointment with a grader... someone that can operate machinery to move around dirt and make the yard level, or sloped so that water goes away from buildings and to drainage places. This will be step 2 of landscaping. Step 1 is us making a plan for what we want, what we need, and what we can afford. I think step 3 is order a dumpster.

Hello Cairo.

Ruth gave Geoff a birdfeeder for his birthday. I love it. Thank you, Ruth! It's just as she described it... simple to fill, easy to clean, and the birds come readily and eagerly. It took a few days for them to notice, then trust it. I moved it closer to the guava shrubs, where I know they like to sit anyway, and that made all the difference. I haven't got any pictures of birds, yet, but all day long it is visited by finches, and sparrows, by the scrub jays, California towhee, spotted towhee, dark-eyed juncos! I can watch them from the window above the kitchen sink, which makes dishwashing an easier task. And, as soon as I am done with this post, I am going to wash windows. Remember all the talk of dust? I have refused to wash windows until our construction, and the neighbors' is done, but for birding, I am ready to make an exception!

Alex and Bambi made ratatouille. Alex uses the mandoline to slice the squashes, and eggplant, and tomatoes. They make it such a beautiful dish.

William and I went to see Maria at school, and she took us on a walk where she has found a secret garden. We also saw more of 8th College, the latest, nearly completed college at UCSD. And then we walked back to 6th College, and went up to the 10th, and 9th floors, to compare the views. We agree the view from the 9th floor is best. The clear sky gave us views beyond La Jolla Cove, and north as far as Dana Point, I think. And there were paragliders out, and closer by, ravens.

It is strange to me that when I was last blogging Maria was just beginning, and I was grappling with letting go, and trusting, and observing from a greater distance as she embarked on this new adventure. And now... now she is comfortable, familiar, experienced, confident. She isn't far from finishing her second year, from planning upper division courses. Our nest is not empty. It simply expanded. It's not the same, though. It's clearly a new phase in our lives, now that all of the children are adults. No more grade schools, no more sack lunches, persmission slips. Maria is charting her own course, and navigating. She runs things by us, and openly shares her thoughts, and plans, but she is taking the reins. In a gradual, mindful way, she is, as always, growing. I am so happy that I have had the pleasure of seeing these days.

Now, to the window! Just the two. I hope that when they are clean, I can not only see better, but maybe I will get some decent pictures of the birds at the feeder.

Recently

Today I inserted a post in the archives, because I want to fill in the gaps from the months and months when I wasn't posting. Besides that, I also want to address the technical challenges that are vexing me. Blogger needs updating, but I am afraid it is a format or app or dinosaur that Google has likely entirely abandoned. There are so many obstacles and glitches and features that seem to be obsolete. It is very frustrating. Anyway, despite all of that, people seem to have found Chickenblog, again, and I have to say your comments are delightful. Thank you. (Have I mentioned that I cannot figure out how to create paragraphs?? Nothing in html or formatting is any use. Help? Sorry.) Well. Thank you for your patience. And, here is a ratty-rat that I recently finished. I have been doing embroidery on two yards of linen. I bring it when I travel, so I can wrap up, or make shade, and it gives me a canvas for stitching, on planes, and trains, on barges. It makes me very happy.

Incrementally Smaller

Intentions, and process. I was going to say "intentions and results," but that would be to deny that I make some progress, eventually. I did unravel the tangles, I even enjoyed the task. And I did mend a favorite sweater, which was my intention. So, that's good. I am just trying to unravel why I struggle so with the process. Ah, but why feign ignorance? I have a rather solid understanding of why I am struggling.

It feels like my accomplishments, even my goals, are becoming incrementally smaller and smaller. I like to stay home. I like to drive the slow way. I want to avoid the crowds, the rush, the places where freeways merge. I need long stretches of time and empty space between errands. I think... I am becoming incrementally smaller.

There are still so many things that I discover I had forgotten (a souvenir from the drunkladydriver incident.) Recently I was thinking of journaling like I did many years ago, when I made lists of things I love. Those lists, probably from middle school, were so much fun to make, so gratifying. I felt like it was a means of tallying up all the tangible evidence of me, of who I was and what I was made of. It felt like a comforting way to identify who I am and to be recognizable, to myself. It's not so hard to lose that sense. That sense of knowing, and feeling recognized.

I should probably list things that need to get done, too. That is a seemingly infinite list, and daunting, too. But, for the record... I completed a big one: We have countertops installed in the little house. The ADU. Accessory Dwelling Unit. The granny flat. I want to name the new house, and I like The Greenhouse. When we first tried buying our home, I called it The Blue House, and by the time we moved in, years later, it had become The Bird House. This paragraph is already a fine example of assembled tangents, and so I will add one more... there can be no doubt of the diagnosis, I definitely have ADHD. Now, to the lists. I am going to find some paper, and a good pen.

So Nice!

Thank you! I never imagined anyone was going to find me here, at least not for a while. So, it was a nice welcome back to get comments.

Did I ever mention a big construction project? Really big. I may not have got into it. (Whoa! I did mention it actually. Of course it was ages ago.) Wow. Coming in here, at the 11th hour, everyone can breath a sigh of relief because I have spared us all of my trauma drama. Deconstructing a pool, digging septic pits, adding septic tanks, rerouting electrical and plumbing, moving out-buildings! The logistics and orders of operations, the crews, and equipment, dust, mud, noise! And for what? We are completing an accessory dwelling unit, aka a "granny-flat." It has been in the plans for 7-8-9 years, developing, evolving, falling apart, coming back into shape. Even its purpose has had a million iterations, and it will like change again, and once more. But first and foremost, we have created more living space, and that is a good thing, for the 7 of us, for whatever the future may hold. We have built options!

Here we have the kitchen, and the cabinets that Mike built. After the foundation, framing, and roof were complete, he came to do everything else, which is a lot! This is a two room house, with a bathroom and a powder room, a utility hall, a covered front porch, and wood floors, and arched niches. I love arched niches. This last picture is from Maria, who sweetly endured my angst and waffling through paint chips. She took each of my paint choices and digitally painted them on her iPad. It was, essentially, a Blue vs Green debate for the kitchen cabinets. And, can you tell? Maria and I were in Sweden last summer! Folkpainted furniture is unequivocally my everything.

Green is our winner! Incidentally, the house is green, too, with brown trim and some stone siding that goes about half-way a quarter-way up the front. Essentially, my design goals have been to create a place that might be found in a California State Park. A cabin in the woods, near the ocean, or a creek. Something with rustic hints, and homegrown charms. Blues, greens, browns, stone and tile and wood, and arched niches.

Here is just about where we are today. Mike went home for winter, and when he returns, we have some things to finish, including doors, trim, baseboards. Today I am meeting with two contractors, who will give me estimates on kitchen counters. That job was supposedly going to be taken care of, but I am being ghosted, and have had to start all over. And the doors? The doors is a whole other story! Don't ask me to say anything nice about Home Depot.

Here is something very nice! This is how things looked in July, last summer. That was just about a year into the start of this... the physical labor, messy start. It's been a journey!

I Wonder...

Walks into space, tentatively. Looks around. Hello?

I am taxing my brain, trying to remember all of the steps and numbers, the order of operations, just to make anything appear on the page. Besides figuring all of that out, there is the question of writing, and what to write. It's been so long since I post Too long. I feel anxious and uncomfortable, like hives are coming on, thinking of all the things left unsaid, all of the moments I didn't share, record, make note of. I know, better than ever, how much I depend on the archives here, and it makes me sad that I have not kept up. Maybe I can do it. Maybe I can diligently, sparingly, catch-up. Then again, maybe I will just keep moving forward. I am unsure.

One thing I do know... time has warped since 2020, maybe even since the last days of 2016, and everything since has become a muddled tangle of events and passages, of happenings that I never could have predicted. It seems a universal experience that we have lost perspective and can hardly distinguish the last 6 months from the last four years. Maybe that is part of what makes me miss Chickenblog. I need an anchor a signpost, something apart from social media algorithms and the fast-paced blurr of life, where I can reflect and process, and... And breath.

We are all here, in our BirdHouse. The youngfolk, and our cats, the goats, the chickens, the laundry. We are well, in the ways that matter. We have had good days, and that matters, too. Sometimes, so little changes, I forget that a lot has changed. A lot has happened since November 13, 2022.

Some of The Rest of October

I am backblogging... Inserting posts that I am writing now, into the timeline, because the gaps of missing posts makes me anxious. I stopped posting after November 13, 2022, and it wasn't planned, and the time-off was perhaps needed, or maybe... I don't know, but now I wish I had kept up. Anyway, I want to go back and add some highlights, some particular moments that later I will appreciate. So, that last post was essentially from October, when we were watching Maria settle into her fist quarter in university, and progress with our ADU was really moving ahead.

October 11, 2022. Alex and Max, on the foundation. And I had to double check this because I was doubting that we could have had a blank foundation and then framing in the same month. But that is absolutely accurate. With luck and a good crew, framing a house is relatively quick. Everything else up to this point had been long, slow, complicated, slow, laborious, frustraing and slow. Then, suddenly, we had something solid and it seemed rather miraculous. I believe I was not posting about the ADU at all, because I wanted to do it all justice and writing was still hard (post drunkladydriver... it's still hard, honestly.) Anyway, "news" of all of this was not forthcoming, and now (February 2024) it's nearly complete, and that is both quick and pretty hecking long. I must apologize: Writing in the future, about the past, is awkward, and I am not even trying to make this as plain as it could be.

October 14, 2022. I remember, very clearly, that I was visiting Maria as much as I possibly could, except for when I delibertly stayed away so it didn't seem like I was visiting as much as I could. And despite my visits, she was leaping! On her own time, Maria was exploring campus, visiting centers and events, and getting to know her roomates, and taking on all manner of new experiences. It was wonderful to hear about, and special to witness. I felt like, as a mother, I could not have asked for a better start to college for her.

October 19, 2022. A bedroom, an office, a full bathroom and a powder room, a laundry space, kitchen, and livingroom. A front porch is coming, which may or may not be enclosed. What else? It feels like the biggest question was always, "What is it for?" We had ideas, and hopes, and those were always changing. I guess the answer that works best is to say, "For choices." We could rent it out, or use it ourselves, we can have guests, we can have room for our work, for our interests (which are many.) The city has long been in a struggle to add more housing, so they have been making accomodations for homeowners to add on granny flats and accessory dwelling units. Our family of seven adults, with home offices, will always appreciate the extra space.

October 20, 2022. Somewhere between Cardiff State Beach and Dog Beach.

October 24, 2022. I love looking into the Bird House at dusk, when the sky is softly lit, and the kitchen is glowing. It catches my breath, and I recall all of the times when I wanted to be home, to have a home. Looking at the view from the entry of the new construction has a whole new feel, and I am only beginning to consider the possibilities.

October 25, 2022. Mending.

October 28, 2022.

October. How is there nothing of Halloween? I cannot fathom. But here is some of Maria's art.

Still October

Just pretending it's still October, that I am still participating in the "Picture a Day' activity on Instagram, which I didn't actually keep up with. No need to explain, right? Okay. It's October and here are some moments we enjoyed on the fourth of October, when Ruth and I met Maria on campus.

This was barely Maria's second week at University. Now, she's finished mid-terms and is working on final projects. She's even enrolling for her second quarter. She is happy. Seriously. She likes her classes, and her roommates, and walking all over campus, finding new spaces, making her way around new environs and experiences. And, I should add: I am happy, too. There are still moments when I have a sudden start because she isn't in her room, or I imagine her walking to class, clear across campus, in the rain. Those are not easy moments. But, then again, I am terribly fortunate, too... we see eachother at least a couple of times during the week, and she comes home for the weekends. It's so lovely to have this balance between discovering independence and new opportunities, all while retaining our connections, our walks, talks, shared interests.

3 & 4 October Photo a Day

Morning Things... must include a cat sleeping on my legs or between my ankles, or across my knees. And sometimes it's two cats. And we know, us cat keepers, that the rules say "do not ruffle or disturb," and so morning things include one extricating oneself out from under cats.

Other morning things, in recent months include visits to the beach, walking and looking for something new. Looking for something new is the game I play to keep motivated and engaged. I can't lie... it was easier to walk all day, in Paris, Amsterdam, and I'd do the same in Madison, Wisconisn, or Portland, Oregon, easily and gladly in the Redwoods, Limekiln, the shores of Lake Michigan, around Whitefish Bay. Closer to home, I depend on my game, and I look for things to photograph, to keep me moving forward. On October 3rd, the morning thing was taking the trail from to top of Torrey Pine State Park down to the ocean.

Cozy is the prompt for today, and I thought of my quilts, and how happy I am that I learned to quilt. That I made these, and more, and have them to remind me of hours hand sewing, of colors, and babies, and picnics, and the way my mind contentedly reflects on loved ones, how I make prayers for their well being, and imagine days to come when we will be together. I get lost in dreams, wishes, hopes, and there must be something binding, something that gets held in the threads. I feel all the good and promising urges and yearnings, and they feel cozy, warm.

Another cozy offering... a birthday dinner celebrating Bambi. She and Alex prepared ratatouille, and garlic bread loaded with mushrooms, and for dessert there were orange cranberry scones. We are going to reinstate week-long birthday celebrations, so that Maria can join in the fun when she comes home.

2 October Photo a Day :: Everyday Moments

Last week Maria asked for a refresher lesson on making corn tortillas, and so we made some together. Today we turned to making flour tortillas, which she has less experience with, and they are a bit harder. Oh, but they are so delicious.

Cooking, in a house with seven, is an everyday activity. We all cook, and share some delicious meals together. These flour tortillas were rolled up with the beans I made this week, and so that was lunch. Cooking... 2/31 for October's Photo a Day!