Sunday, June 22, 2014


Solstice backyard, Holbrook.
The longest day of the year. The first day of summer. JV, Emmylou, and I are sitting in the backyard enjoying the quiet (finally, the traffic has died down). JV and I are drinking red wine, reading, and reflecting. Emmylou is under her favorite tree. 

La famille V was over today cleaning out the garage. The move is on. I suppose anticipating a change is maybe the worst part of it. I don't know living with it, dealing with it, doing it, is pretty challenging, too. 

And there are so many questions, still, in my life. 

The next morning.

Outside with Emmylou now, enjoying the quiet of a peek-a-boo-sun Sunday, wind rustling in the many trees, and the incessant clicktinkle of Emmy's bird bell (not that she could catch one anyway, as she has all the invisibility and subtlety of a Mac Truck). 

I brought Cooder out for awhile. She's barely been outside in her entire life. She was sunning herself in the bedroom window and, as Emmy and I were out, I thought perhaps she would like a taste of fresh (supervised) air. 

It should be a good day. I woke up with Cooder curled in my arms purring, which is one of my favorite things, and which does not happen very often any more, Not sure if it is due to general cat cussedness to not give you what you want when you want it or another sign of her moving into the last phase. Her coat is still good, and she eats, but she doesn't move around much, and I am pretty sure she can't hear or see all that well. (I don't see that well myself.)

Today will be packing up as I am putting stuff back in storage in Connecticut in anticipation of the move. Later in the week, the cats and I plan on heading down to Brooklyn for a bit. I could also be hanging out in Rhinebeck a bit this summer, if the cats can stay in Brooklyn with M. Or I might just hang it all up and go back to SFS. 

One of the painful questions I have been asking myself is "How did I get life so terribly terribly wrong?" I didn't particularly want to get married, and I did not fully comprehend what it meant to go through life without a partner. I did want a partner, but somehow did not think I was worthy or attractive enough. I wanted all kind of things, but I didn't have a clear view of how to get any thing substantial.

And I know that depression has played a part in my life's failure. A friend asked me the other day why I went off my meds for a bit, and I really just kind of forgot how awful things could get without them. You think that has improved enough, as it did when I was working, that "Hey, I can handle this!" I should get a tattoo or a brain implant to make sure I stay on them (this is not a phenomenon unique to me). Plus, the side effects are a bit of a drag, but not, of course, as much of a drag as d├ęsepoir.

(Emmy is being the faithful retainer, sitting quietly by my side as I write, watching and listening to the birds.)

I probably mentioned this in an earlier post, but I am jonesing for books these days. I started reading Mad Girl's Love Song: Sylvia Plath and Life Before Ted, and although I am not convinced that it is a must read, I want to get in some reading time before JV's brother arrives and I get to packing.

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