Weekend warrior

Dragon Mood? -- moving a tad slowly and grimacing

Doing this weekend warrior thing is tough on the body! It's another Monday, I'm still unemployed and ... and I'm feeling S-O-R-E!

AFTER two weekends upnorth, building the aforementioned handicap ramp for Grandma, our home in the pine trees was in sore (ha-ha, get it?) need of some attention.

S completely busted a*s, mowing our almost-an-acre yard, weed-whacking, spraying our several birch clumps to prevent bugs, pulling weeds, removing some plants that have become pesky -- overgrowing their allotted space -- along with other various and sundry tasks.

I splurged, spent our grocery money and bought flowers (hurray! - flowers are not a luxury item in this household) and planted cheerful red salvia in our concrete containers at the front of the house.

In the camper, I vacuumed all the little mouse poop left by the little buggers over the winter, cleaned and sanitized all the horizontal surfaces along with some of the walls, sprayed Lysol on all the mildew spots on the camper canvas along with removing and washing all the camper curtains. For being nine years old, the camper curtains were in amazingly pristine condition -- they just needed the mothball smell to be washed out of them.

I also washed 4 or 5 rag rugs, along with several loads of clothing.

I brushed the dog vigorously (as she's blowing out her winter coat) and trimmed her Cruella DeVille-like nails. Then she got a bath. As she's getting older, I think she's enjoying those warm, scrub-a-dub-dub things all the more!

Oh, I forgot to mention that I walked with our friend, Joanne, yesterday at a nearby nature center for about an hour, while the dogs forged ahead, hunting, sniffing, lapping up nasty standing water, mock-growling at one another to see who's the real alpha dog and just happy to be there. Cisco's tail was wagging non-stop. Joanne and I both commented what a pleasure it is to witness such canine joy.

Two other notables for this weekend. S and I both got our hair cut on Saturday. After 14 weeks with no haircut, believe me, I was ready! In another attempt to save money, I had my hair cut by a less-experienced hair stylist named Mandy. While it doesn't have quite the "style" that Robin imparts, she gave me a very functional summer haircut. S got a darling bob, kind of a 21st-century version of a Buster Brown-do. It's longer underneath, shorter on the top and frames her face nicely. I like it.

Evolution of the web

Dragon Mood? -- dragons LOVE sparkly, techy things!

Want to see a cool video showcasing the evolution of the Web in just 5 minutes? Go here.

Winding down from a busy, busy week

Dragon Mood? -- fatigued and energized at the same time?

For a rather cold, rainy week (which in my mind equates to long, drugged-like naps), it's been a busy week for me. S and I started out the week so incredibly tired from our second jaunt up north in two weeks, I think we rolled through Monday and Tuesday in a veritable fog.

Tuesday afternoon, I met with the facilitator at the career center where I've been volunteering. I handed off a PowerPoint presentation that I went through, reformatted and cleaned up a bit that she uses every week. Heather is always very effusive in her thanks and this time was no exception.

Wednesday morning I met with a recruiter new to me, an MSU grad (which made me feel more "open" to him from the get-go), who was a particularly good listener and helped me to feel okay about all my worries and misgivings. He didn't make extravagant promises, but left me with a feeling that he could be a strong advocate for me. All good stuff!

I forgot that Tuesday evening I also went to a volunteer orientation for a LGBT center that recently opened near us. I was tired (surprise) and had actually considered bombing out on the orientation meeting. I'm glad I didn't. The meeting was chaired by a young, energetic gay man named Brandon who was light and funny and informative, all at the same time. He made me feel most welcome and I felt "noticed" and appreciated. Isn't it funny the things that you crave when you're unemployed?

This week I also sent out resumes or received calls on at least two promising-looking jobs. One is with a former Big Three employer of mine. I'm keeping myself very much in a self-protective mode and doing lots of emotional "checks" as to how I'm feeling about that. Time will tell. I also got a quick response from a recruiter for another older manufacturing biggie here in Motown, looking for designers. I had to fill out a rather lengthy pre-interview questionnaire. Again, time will tell whether they're interested in me or not.

I spent the better part of an afternoon, working on some graphic stuff for my niece and nephews for a something-something that's in the works right now. Cryptic, I know, but necessary ... at least for now.

I finally, finally, FINALLY sent off a package containing a neti pot for my elderly uncle down in Port Arthur, Texas. Can you believe that blankety-blank thing's been sitting on our dining room table for over eight frickin' weeks? ArrrghhH! I don't know what has been going on with me, but I simply could not -- repeat, COULD NOT -- bring myself to tape that thing up and mail it. This week, all of the sudden, I could. And, I DID!

I also mailed off to all three of my father's siblings a lengthy recap of notes I took five-and-a-half years ago (yes, I know -- isn't that pathetic?) regarding family history and asked them to read it, review it and make the necessary changes and/or additions. After languishing such a long time on my computer, mailing those "stories" really feels good!

I've paid bills, transferred funds (robbing Peter to pay Paul, you know?) faxed job-related documents to the appropriate people, gone through some old mail, cleaned out some cluttery piles of paper (Yay!), recycled things that needed recycling ... why, I even went to the hardware store and replaced our just-burned out fluorescent bulb under the kitchen cabinets. Wow!, can you believe I've got that done already? I hardly can!

I've swapped the cars around, filled the little trash-mobile's gas tank so S and I can drive it back to the pinetree house, ride-sharing and saving gas. We're ALL about saving money on gas these days!

Whew! It's been a busy, busy week!

Flattered

Today, I got an interesting email. It was from someone in the flickr community adding me as a contact. That occasionally happens, so I didn't think TOO much of it, until I went to the person's website. Something there looked familiar. What is it? Oh my gosh! She used one of my mandala creations as a backdrop for her blog header. What do you make of that?


Here's her blog link.

And here's my creation...that she used.

Congratulations to mijita!

The front of the house
Originally uploaded by Wild Wend.

Congratulations to my daughter, Lina, on the purchase of her FIRST home! I couldn't be happier for you, sweetie!

The humdinger weekend that it was!

Dragon Mood? -- still sore and fatigued

HUMDINGER is the word I would use to describe this past weekend. A humdinger, for sure!

S and I rolled outta Motown Friday afternoon amid all the rest of the commuters. Thankfully, we were both in a good mood, looking forward to the weekend, so the heavy traffic was a non-issue.

Even before thinking about getting on the road for "upnorth," we mailed customized Mother's Day cards to Lindsey and Sarah, bought potted flowers for Sally and Grandma, stopped off at our "piney" home, showered, repacked bags, switched vehicles, drove back into town, bought lumber and electrical supplies at the nearby Home Depot, did our late-night banking, bought burgers for the road, a five-shot latte (for S, of course) for the road, and finally, finally hit the road! At 10:40 p.m. (laughing) Are we crazy or what?

Saturday morning work began around 10. Like the troopers that they are, S's sister, Michelle, and her husband, Jim, showed up bright and early, coffee mugs in hand, ready to work.

S and I finished up some minor framing on the handicap ramp, while Michelle and Jim began carving out the shape of a concrete pad for the handicap ramp to land ON. Sally got on the phone and had forty (40) 80-lb bags of cement delivered to the house within about an hour of her call. Jim and I went and picked up an electric cement mixer and the cement pouring commenced around 3:30 p.m.

We broke at 9:30 for a fabulous, fashionably-late dinner prepared by Sally. We ate like the ravenous and tired workers that we were. We hung out until after 11:30, waiting for the cement to set up enough for it to be troweled. Jim used a kitchen broom to supply the finishing touches to the finish, making it safe and elder-friendly.

Sunday morning was another absolutely perfect day, clear, cloudless and sunny. We all marveled at how gorgeous the concrete pad turned out -- wow, did we do that?

Around 2 p.m., S's older sister, Becky and her daughter, Lydia arrived from down-state. We all visited and caught up on news with one another. Sally and Grandma opened up Mother's Day gifts from Becky and Lydia. The four of us returned to work.

Jim and Michelle set a few more 4x4 posts for elder-friendly transitioning down the existing steps, while S and I began work in earnest on the decking. Then, eventually, it was all four of us working on decking. We finished the 6'x 10' deck first, then the intermediate 6' ramp up to the 5'x 5' platform which then transitions to the 8' ramp up to the existing porch.

That last ramp was nothing but a headache all the way around. (In light of people's heightened awareness of language usage, post-Don Imus, I'll avoid using the five-letter female dog term I was first inclined to use describing that ramp.) There were problems too numerous to recount, but it was late in the day, we were four 40-to-50 year olds, tired, sore, achey, busting a*s trying to get it done.

We finished up around 8:30. I was so sore I was groaning with every move I made. (I'm a BIG baby that way.) S packed up her tools, Jim and Michelle and S tidied up the entire construction site, while I went in the house, deflated our new Aerobed mattress (what a nice thing!), gathered up our stuff, made a pot of coffee and WASHED MY FACE! Geez, did I feel grody!

I think we got on the road back to the piney house just a little before 10. Rather than making another leg of the trip back down here to the pied-a-terre, we dropped our bags, took hot showers, each took two EXTRA STRENGTH Bayer aspirin and fell into bed. You think I'm speaking in metaphors? NO! We fell into bed. It was 1 a.m.

Then, we were back up and at 'em by 6 a.m., switched vehicles, loaded our bags and the dog and headed here for S to get to work. Sheesh! I can feel tired just recounting it all!

Do you think we had a humdinger for a weekend?

Delight me!

Dragon Mood? -- smiling

How bad IS it when you expose yourself in a lie of your own creation? Hmm ... probably just as bad as any lie, huh? Does fatigue-stupidity count as a justifiable excuse?

I haven't gone to bed YET and the sky is starting to get PINK! Plus, how could I pass up the opportunity to do one of these click-on-the-thumbnail things?

Click on the thumbnail to see what I created at French Toast Girl.

Cute, huh?

Quote for Friday

Dragon Mood? -- mindfulness along with my mind is absent

Okay ... I'm gonna post just this one more thing ... AND THEN I'm going to bed! Here's a quote I found and liked:

The most precious gift we can offer others is our presence. When mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers. ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

Insomnia ... again

Dragon Mood? -- tired and cranky

Damn, I hate insomnia. It's now 5 a.m. I've been awake since 2. I know I'm gonna feel like sh*t tomorrow, uh, make that 3 hours from now. Why am I awake?

I have this bad habit of cracking my toes in my sleep. My partner has a bad habit of yelling in her sleep to "STOP that!" While it's not pretty -- either of our habits -- still, I don't do well being awakened by someone yelling at me!

All I have to say at this point is Grrr.

Joy that is so real it hurts

Dragon Mood? -- proud of my "Mother" dragon status

Mother's Day is just around the corner. Every year, at this time, I'm always amazed at the curious ways that people choose to honor their mothers. I mean really! Does a television commercial featuring a singing greeting card convey my feelings? How about over-priced bouquets of flowers? Or taking Mom, carefully coiffed, suited and powdered, out to a big fancy Sunday meal do it?

Don't get me wrong. I'm a mom and I like it when my kids recognize me on Mother's Day.   I do!   I may not be anticipating a big ticket item like a diamond pendant necklace, but I dropped a totally blatant hint for a renewal on my pro flickr account to my daughter several weeks ago.

Tomorrow evening, S and I will make the trip up north to work for another weekend on Grandma's handicap ramp. We'll probably take one or two hanging baskets of flowers and find a way to hang them from one of the brand-new posts of the brand-new ramp. We'll probably recognize Mother's Day on Sunday in some non-lavish, non-traditional way. Why? Because Sally is S's mother and Grandma is her grandmother. They are probably the two most important people in S's extended family. They are her history. They are her blood. And, whatever else you may say about them, they deserve to be recognized! And so we will!

Ordinarily, I hate the schmaltzy, sentimental claptrap that gets bounced around the cyberworld in emails around Mother's Day. I have several friends and acquaintances who routinely and predictably send me these sorts of things. Out of respect for them and our friendships, I usually read them and then quite automatically delete them. The following is one of these types of emails ... or so I thought. I read it and didn't reach for the "Delete" button. Maybe it's schmaltzy, maybe it's claptrap ... but I thought it captured well many, many of the feelings I've felt in my years as a mom:

We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family."

"We're taking a survey," she says half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations."

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.

I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moments hesitation.

I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.

That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks.

I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very
unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time.. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.

Please share this with a Mom that you know or all of your girlfriends who may someday be Moms. May you always have in your arms the one who is in your heart.

the sounds of grass growing

Dragon Mood? -- lazy with sounds of rain and thoughts of red wine

Ever wonder what the sounds of grass growing are? For your reading pleasure, I reproduce a segment of a chat that mijita, Caroline, and I had this afternoon, late in the day.

me: (laughing) Well, go enjoy your walk. It's completely dark, overcast and we've been having bouts of thunder and then heavy rain. I'm staying in and cracking open a bottle of Crane Lake!
Caroline: It doesn't sound too gorgeous where YOU are!
me: :-D
Caroline: Hopefully it's heading your way.
me: Nope, not at all. But you can HEAR the grass growing ... with all this rain!
Caroline: A bottle of wine sounds good. Mayhaps I'll open one of those tonight, too.
me: There you go!
Caroline: I always thought hearing the grass growing would sound like very low cello notes...long bow strokes...pianissimo...
me: I'll go with that description .... sounds lovely.

New banner

Dragon Mood? -- pleased for a first try

Among its many resources for awesome web design and amazing CSS, Mandarin Design has a link to a cool banner creator called TypoGenerator. I tried it out and of course, had to create umpteen versions of calypsoDragon13.

Some of the best:












And finally, here's one that I created for myself in Photoshop. It's not great ... it's okay for a first try. I'll give myself a day or two, look at it again and refine.

Refine, refine, refine.


[Update] And another refinement:

Monday night recap

Dragon Mood? -- still catching up

Wow, where has the time gone? Four days have slipped away like sand between my fingers!

S and I headed up north Friday to begin work on a handicap ramp (photos yet to come!) for 91-year old Grandma ... when my cell phone rang with a recruiter on the other end. A job that they had contacted me about days earlier -- suddenly the manager wanted to have a phone interview that afternoon? I explained that I was traveling up north and could we do it Monday?

The interview happened this morning. It went well for me, not so well for the manager. He called an hour and fifteen minutes late, sounded embarassed and eased into the interview asking me about my mentioning on my resume that I play classical piano. I chuckled and responded with what I thought was appropriate.

We conversed for 20 minutes. The upshot is that I'm making the 100-mile journey tomorrow morning for an interview. (sigh)   Yes, another interview. (sigh) Yes, 200 miles and gas at $3-and-what a gallon? Just what an unemployed AND broke person like me needs, huh? Smack me upside the head, but I'm having trouble getting excited that anything real or tangible will come from this. Yup, I know ... smack me!

The good news is that our weekend up north was SO much more productive than S and I ever allowed ourselves to dream. S's sister, Michelle and her husband, Jim, came over Saturday and worked like troopers with us. Then, they came back Sunday and did it again! We got all the posts laid out, cemented and secured in the ground, as well as framing members laid out and secured. Other than three "fake" posts that need to be lagged into underlying joists, we're ready to begin laying the decking.

S and Jim determined that a small concrete pad also needs to be poured at the base of the handicap ramp. Jim has some experience with concrete so that will be his project, with us helping. S predicted that we'll lay out the forms for the concrete this coming weekend, as well.

Jeez, do you have ANY idea how nice it feels to have things go well and BETTER than planned for a change? Any idea?

The contrast between how my life has been going (or FEELS like it's been going) and how this past weekend went is a picture-window view into the increasingly worn-down, ground-down and embittered feelings I'm carrying around inside of me, like 100-lb bags full of calcified, pointy-sharp feelings. YeecchhH!

I need to spend some time tomorrow, as I'm driving through the southern Michigan countryside, contemplating that ... and figuring out what I can do to heave those bitter-heavy feelings out the window. Yes, I do!

Never dream on a Thursday afternoon!

Dragon Mood? -- shaking out the cobwebs

Cisco and I took an enjoyable walk this afternoon. The weather is beautiful, the temperature outside perfect. We walked for about 40 minutes and arrived back at the pied-a-terre, both of us panting a bit from exertion and ready for something cool to drink.

I took off my walking shoes, poured myself some lukecool rooibos herbal tea and sat down in a comfy chair to work on a sudoku puzzle. Before I knew it, I had dozed off, puzzle and pencil in hand.

I dreamt that I was driving in a tunnel from Detroit to Windsor. The tunnel felt more like driving through a series of concrete rooms and involved lots of sharp turns. I drove anxiously, carefully avoiding the vehicle-unfriendly concrete corners. I was doing okay, until a last turn when I heard the scrape of metal and saw something fly off of my car.

"Ohhh, NO!" I groaned to myself. The concrete tunnel morphed into a concrete room, a room that resembled a tall, deep castle dungeon. I knew it was an office. My supervisor from my last temporary job, a guy named Adam, was there. He was asking me a question. But suddenly, there was a police officer wanting to take a report on my hitting my car in the tunnel.

"Officer, it was a mistake," I offered, "and it was just a tiny little scrape."

"It doesn't matter," he officiously replied, "the penalty is eight million dollars and you'll just have to pay it."

"EIGHT MILLION DOLLARS!" I exclaimed.

Meanwhile, Adam is repeatedly asking for for this notebook filled with papers.

"See these cards?" he asked. They were a stack of the postcards that fill magazines, hectoring readers to mail them in and subscribe to the magazine.

"Did you see any of these cards in that notebook?" he asked again. "Did you take any of them out?"

"Yes," I replied, "well, yes, I took them out and threw them away. They're junk mail. I didn't know they meant anything or that you wanted them in there."

Adam then goes off on a tirade. The policeman reminds me that I will have to pay that eight million dollar ticket ... Adam is yelling at me "How could you throw my cards away?" ... I'm feeling sick with anxiety and fear ... and I woke up. I woke up so groggy with sleep that it took me seconds and seconds and more seconds to realize, to thankfully realize that I didn't owe anybody eight million dollars and that I hadn't screwed up Adam's screwed-up filing system. What a relief! What a bothersome dream! And I was so thankful it was just a bothersome dream!

May Day

Dragon Mood? -- awake or dreaming?

Why is it ... some weeks I can't wait to post my thoughts to calypso ... while other weeks, like this one, I feel strangely quiet?

Tuesday was May Day, a day I always feel drawn to. It has some long-ago associations for me of 2nd grade, making brightly-colored construction paper tulips and being one of the children to wrap crepe paper around a tall May pole. Did that really happen or did I just dream it?

Happy Birthday, Josh!

Dragon Mood? -- dragon-happy and celebrating!

Mbaby, my baby boy turns 29 today! Ohhh! While he jumps on the slippery slope to 30, I just hope and pray my memory holds out (for many, many years) so I remember all the sweet, lovely details of his birth!

As is our tradition, I called Josh this morning and sang "Happy Birthday" to him. He sounded pleased, as he always does. It sounds silly, but just hearing the pleasure in his voice at my call gives me pleasure. We chatted about this, about that.

Right at the end of our conversation, he laughingly admitted that he actually thought he was turning 30 today. I replied with one of those hushed, intense "WOWs" that we fling out there when we're teasing one another and want to give the impression, "I can't believe you just said that!" I suggested (ever the mother) that, given the state of his memory, perhaps he should have two rather than three cocktails tonight after work. Obviously, those brain cells are expiring faster than expected! 27 - 28 - 29 ...(hee-hee)...

Happy 29th Birthday, my sweet son. I love you!

A Bluebonnet Moment

A Bluebonnet Moment originally uploaded by jeffclow.

Bluebonnets are the state flower of Texas. In mid- to late March the bluebonnets usually come out in full force.

I think this photo of Jeff Clow's from flickr is simply stunning.

Mourning a friend who is gone

Dragon Mood? -- mournful, sad

Finding out that someone you loved and cared about is dead is painful enough. To find out that this person died over 11 months ago and I had no clue only adds to my sense of loss and vulnerability. I had no clue.

I found out this morning. The person that died was our therapist, S and mine, for over four years. Maybe it was even five years; I've forgotten now. His name was Pat Brice and he was an exceptional therapist. He was also a person who made me feel happy about being alive and hopeful about the future.

S and I started seeing Pat in August of 1998. It was a dark and bitter time in our relationship. Without going into gory details, suffice to say that Pat had plenty to address with us, regarding our relationship, as well as our parenting skills and individual mental health.

We saw Pat week after week after week, usually on a weekday evening. Sometimes we were his last clients for the evening. That allowed him to be a bit more relaxed about the length of our session. Many times, we would start the session talking about something other than "therapy." From those "warm-up minutes," I learned about Pat's love of nature, dogs, woodworking, bees, gardening, his wife and his daughters, his extended family in Wisconsin.

During sessions, I heard him speak about his own traumas growing up at the hands of nuns, a failed first marriage, working in mental health clinics, deciding to pursue a Ph.D, politics, working with kids who have ADHD and learning to deal with his own limitations.

Pat was kind of a gentle bear of a man. For most of the time that S and I saw him, he had either a mustache or a mustache and a beard. He was rather rotund; he could have played a perfect Santa Claus, including the twinkle in his eye. I remember us talking about our respective struggles with weight.

He was incredibly kind and gentle. He demonstrated manly, better yet, fatherly tenderness that spoke volumes to the little girl within me. He cried with S and me a couple of times, particularly when talking about children experiencing violence. He told us lots of insightful or instructive stories and theories and even shared a hypothesis or two on the "secrets" of the universe.

Pat drove a Ford Ranger that he loved. When it came time, S bought a Ford Ranger too. He shared a dozen or so pine seedlings with us that he had gotten from a friend. S planted them out in our diminishing pine "forest" while her grandma observed. He brought us a jar filled with honey from his bees. (Delicious!) We brought him cookies at Christmastime because he made no secret of his love for eating. He gave us a beautiful wooden "vase," complete with a snug-fitting top that he cut and turned on his lathe. It sits on our sidetable in the dining room where we can see it with every meal. S bought a beautiful gnarled piece of wood and gave it to him because she knew how much he loved wood.

Because he knew, as designers we love to design things, one night after a session, we spent quite a while strategizing how he could build a gate into his garden. He had a bunch of design constraints (all of which I can't remember) that only added to the fun and challenge of figuring out a workable and buildable solution. He told us about the ponds on his property and the fence to keep their dogs safe and spending time there with his wife.

All three of us enjoyed the outdoors so much, we joked and speculated on what people would think about having our therapy session outside on the clinic lawn. We held back our impulses and stayed inside.

S and I continued to see Pat for over six months after we bought the pied-a-terre here in Motown. That would have been October or November of 2003. I guess we did see him for over five years. Amazing.

We never had an official "last" session. Our lives felt more stable, less chaotic, our relationship more loving, less prone to poor boundaries and "magical" thinking. That fall of 2003, when a series of appointments was completed, I never scheduled more. I never really said "Good-bye" to Pat because there's always a next time, right? Before today, rarely has a week gone by that I don't think of him. And the same can be said regarding S and my relationship. We frequently reference "What would Pat say?" after a particularly difficult exchange or while struggling with a thorny issue. Usually, we can work it out, thanks to his good work with us.

It's nearly impossible to express just how sad I feel, now knowing that Pat is gone. He was such a source of love and care for me in this world. He sure didn't save it for a rainy day. He put it out there, hour after hour, week after week. He gave freely and willingly and lovingly. I suspect that there are many, many other people, clients of his who feel the same. The world ... my world ... feels poorer and drearier and a little less warm for Pat's not being with us here anymore. As a caring therapist, I have made him a part of me. I will always remember him and keep him close in my heart.

Visual DNA

Dragon Mood? -- sorting it out?

Once upon a time ...there was a website called Imagini - Visual DNA. Below is my widget.

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Gorgeous weekend plans

Dragon Mood? -- dragon scales aquiver!

If YOU were a Fire sign and the forecast for this spring weekend is gorgeous, gorgeous, GORGEOUS ... wouldn't a campfire on the deck tonight be your first thought?

EXACTLY! ... and that's what I'm thinkin' about! Wood, wine and my honey ... and maybe our 80-year-old neighbor/lawn boy, Bill ... and maybe Kevin and Jack ... and don't forget Jeanne-less Joanne and Buster and Allie! However and whoever's there, we'll have FUN. You have a great one too!