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Touch me.

Now.

please,

not tomorrow

nor in a moment,

but now.

Here.  In the here and the right there

and now.

Touch

me.

@junemoon 2012

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These past few weeks have been an exercise in cravings, delayed satisfaction, impulsive choice making, setting aside, procrastination, misplacing my mojo, re-discovering my mojo, percolating, marinading, and popcorning ideas, thoughts, theories, plain silliness, deep convoluted thinking meanderings and missing my blog. 

What I have been up to and the revolving re-occuring topics in my head have included, but have not been limited, to:

the hour and minute combination of 11:11 and the significance I have ascribed to this time

~

Spring Fever, which morphed into Sunshine Fever, which changed to Restless Life Syndrome

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loving my job, total dissatisfication with the same job, searching for new job, applying for new jobs

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retirement preparedness, freaking out that I have failed, as in utterly, to formulate any such plan,

vesting, vacillating between commitment to stay for 3+ years to wear this retirement vest, back

to freaking out at the thought of such a long term commitment

~

health issues, tipping over, milestones in sleeping upright, off low sodium plan, back on,

yo-yo eating plan

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poor body image, hating, shameful feelings, attempts to embrace my physical self

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vacations, destinations, monetary commitment toward vacations, gratitude for abundance

~

Setting aside, walking through, moving around, navigating life’s detritus, waking up, being amazed,

feeling flummoxed, groaning disappointment, side-splitting hilarity, tears of pain and surrender,

loving and receiving affection

Man alive!  No wonder I have been absent.  That there is whole hella lot of living. 

Yes, indeed. 

I do believe my region of the planet has taken its snowy place in the weather history books as the snowiest winter on record.  Fantabulous for winter enthusiasts I suppose.  But even those rosy cheeked ones must be getting just a teeny weeny tiny bit tired of the endless dumps gifts of snow. 

As for me, there’s the matter of roof leaks in my kitchen and limited vision from my windows as the snow deepens, rising up past the window casings.  There’s the growing craving for natural greenery.  There’s the daily shuffling and changing of outerwear to inside attire ~ the continual on-and-off of the boots, the hat, the scarf, the gloves and coat. 

Fatiguing of mind, body, heart and spirit for this particular Earth dweller. 

Ready for spring.  Ready for summer. 

Meanwhile, I suppose I’ll go help chisel the icy news of our snowy achievement into our frozen history books.

Take two ibuprofens.  Drink them down with big gulps of water.  Do it quickly lest you be oxygen deprived due to inabilty to breathe through your nose and only your mouth.  Keep a goodly supply of Puffs with lotion tissues nearby.  Apply Neosporin to painfully irritated raw nose. 

Do all of the above throughout your day and night.  Allow the common cold to run its natural course.

Oh I almost forgot to mention, give in to food cravings and allow yourself to be comforted by a steaming hot cup of tomato soup.  Sodium milligrams be damned.  One’s spirits must be buoyed and nurtured during times of physical illness in order to quickly return to health.  That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. 

As you may have guessed by now, I am being visited by a headcold.  I realized that this is the first cold I have succumbed to in over a year.  My memory timeline includes such mileposts as my daugher’s birth year and her age at any given point in my adulthood.  An example being, when did I date the woman with the long flowing blond hair with those deep blue eyes?  Well let’s see, my daughter was about 7 years old so I would have been 26.  Another memory milepost is when was the last time I was able to sleep lying down?  Well let’s see that would have been toward then end of January 2011 so about 13 months ago.  And I haven’t had a head cold since then.  Oh the meandering places my mind does travel when my head is all stuffed up… 

Life is good even with the raw nose and achy muscles.  One cold in over a year just isn’t that bad.  Right?  Nothing that taking two ibuprofens won’t help.

Have you ever been missing something or someone but only became aware of their absence upon their return? Well that was me, or at least my experience, day before yesterday while visiting a neighbor when we were both graced by a mom and her baby. A cow moose mom and her two-year old calf baby, that is. They were munching their way through the yard, enjoying the tasty birch trees and snacking on snow to wash down the significant amount of roughage. My neighbor and I even got to have eye-to-eye contact with mama moose as she peered through the living room windows, perhaps curious as to what was being served for dinner behind the four walls.

While watching the moose go about their day, I realized how much I have missed their moose-y presence this winter. With the exception of this cow and calf I have only seen two other moose all winter. Where I used to live, at the Compound, in a more country like setting, I had grown accustomed to frequent and almost daily sightings of these majestic and dignified looking creatures. In fact, there was a mama moose who I had the honor of watching for five winters and summers. She sported a large healed but jagged grey scar along her left side and gave birth to two sets of twins during our acquaintanceship.

So last night while playing Scrabble with a friend at my dining room table, I was happy and pleased to see my second sighting of this new-to-me neighborhood mom moose and calf strolling through the deep snow right outside my windows. While scarfing down the tender birch branches, the snow would fall onto their furry faces, highlighting their long lush eyelashes ~ a picture perfect moment for sure.

So I did what I am wont to do upon spying any wild animal within reach of my human species ~I send a prayer for their safety up to the Heavens that be, quickly followed by my prayer of thanks-giving to share the Earth with such beauty.

Oh Ms. Mama Moose how I have missed you.
Thank you for reminding me of your presence on this planet.
Thank you for filling a void in my winter that only you can fill.
Blessed be to you and your baby ~

My recent medical diagnoses has required me to change my eating habits. Drastically. As long as I can remember, salt has occupied its very own food group at the base of my food pyramid. Other foods were mere vehicles for my favored and craved after salt. I now take in less than 1000 milligrams of sodium daily. So as one might imagine, this shift in diet has not been without some grief and overall loss of appetite.

The change in diet and my faithful following of the doctor’s orders has rested solely on fear. Fear of being permanently plagued with the unbearable vertigo and the loss of what has been up until recently, very keen hearing. My desire to not lose my ability to hear and having endured severe bouts of vertigo for months on end have been the impetus and motivation, which in turn has fueled my robust adherence to this new eating lifestyle.

Changes take some time to grow accustomed to. That, along with the immediate revocation of my loved longed for and lusted after salty goodiness, basically stopped me dead in my tracks when it came to cooking anything tasty for myself or wanting to cook for myself. When cooking for others, I continue to cook with salt and have not required my friends or families to adhere to my strict new diet needs. But when it has come to my cooking to sustain myself that is exactly what I have been reduced to ~ cooking and eating to live and to survive; forget the thriving and enjoyment.

Up until this weekend that is. Today I am cooking a pot of white bean soup that is much lower in sodium than I would have formerly prepared but still has more sodium laden ingredients than I have been allowing myself. I think this is okay. I didn’t go hog wild ~ just enough to make the soup tasty enough to make me want to dip my spoon in more than once or twice.

The delicious savoriness is enveloping my little abode while the soup perks away in my slow cooker. Chunks of bright orange carrots, carmalized yellow onion bits, diced fresh shiny green jalapenos, a bit of browned salt pork, two dusty green bay leaves and a healthy dose of deep red cayenne pepper mingle with the white beans, all bathed in a splash or so of beef broth. I tossed in a dash of ground nutmeg just for kicks. So far, smells delisio.

Comfort.
A reclaiming of my kitchen.

If you were here, I would ladle you up a hot bowl of white bean soup.
Comfort.
Comfort with a spicy kick.
Oh yeah, baby, time to get back in the kitchen.

Daydreaming, in the dark. Not to be confused with dark daydreams.

No. That would be the wrong interpretation.

This morning I was literally daydreaming in the dark. The dark both inside my dwelling and outside of my four walls as I was waking.

Here is the content of my daydreams today ~

summer time warmth ~ beachwalks ~ sleeping in the horizontal position ~

It could happen.
And it already did ~ in my mind’s eye.

We have passed the Winter Solstice here in the Gloaming That We North Lander’s Call Winter. Yesterday we gained 2 seconds of extra daylight and today we quickly added 14 more precious minutes of daylight ~ all within a 24 hour cycle.

So tonight I am planning on doing what any properly grateful daylight lover would do and I am hosting a Winter Solstice Celebration at mi casa. There will be a small group of joyous revelers joining together to celebrate this magnificent annual event.

We will lift our cups of Hot Gingerbread Punch replete with whipped cream and cinnamon spice on top and pronounce that life has just gotten 16 minutes lighter than three days ago.

I wish you could be here to join in the merriment ~ I truly do.

You know that old adage ~ when life hands you lemons, make lemonade? Well in my current case that saying could be applied with one caveat ~ when life hands you lemons, make lemonade and make sure it is sodium free.

Say it ain’t true.
Please oh please.

But yet it is.
True.

My favorita food group ~ salt ~ has been all but eliminated from my eating plan.

All in hope of making my body such an inhospitable guest home that my Bastard Buddy Vertigo will move on. As in stop mooching a free and dizzy ride. As in flee his not so happy home.

But hey Buddy V before you go, have a glass of sodium free lemonade. On the house. After all, you did supply the lemons.

(Disclaimer: Yes, I realize that lemonade is not typically made with salt ~ that is unless one is mixing up a batch of lemonade margaritas.)

So I took a little poetic license ~ sue me. Why don’t you take a load off and have a sip or two of my salt free lemonade. Supplies are limited.

The ritual of creating a home base is what I am right smack dab in the middle of this holiday weekend. Serendipitous it seems that the day the nation is observing is named Labor Day. As luck would have it, my current project is a labor of love.

Part of the dictionary’s definiton of home base talks about a five-sided chunk of material representing safety for the baseball player. Homes represent the center of safety for the occupants ~ a place of their very own wherein they can truly be themselves without fear of reprisal. The latter part of my home definition doesn’t always play out for members of a family as sometimes we experience the most judgment and/or negative feedback for being our authentic selves from our own tribe. That, however, is a thought journey onto itself for another day…

Today it is enough for me to create with love and labor a home base where I can enjoy the feelings of safety and belonging. Once the need for safety is attained this blogger can re-awaken and dance with my inner artist muse.

I am a lucky lucky woman.
I am an artist and a writer.

I have a Home Base ~

November 2017
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