AM I DOWN TO SEEDS AND STEMS AGAIN, TOO?

So this is #363. The plan was a year of posting daily. I didn't quite make that, but I did okay. The question on the current table is whether or not to continue. And I suppose I need to review what I've done. No! It's not 363 postings as I have some drafts in there that were never posted.

But the anniversary will be here soon.

As the last few posts have reported, my Rhinebeck time with Louise was most productive. I look forward to more such days of working, lounging, cooking, and chatting. And the drive back this morning was spectacular ... not full Fall color, but stunning enough for these perennially West Coast eyes. I actually got up at 7:00 am, showered, and had coffee with Louise who had kindly risen to insure proper caffeination before driving. I had come up with another idea for a movie while showering and we did a good 20 minutes worth of work on still another project. We didn't get everything covered as it was. So that's good.

Emmylou was stressed by my being gone. Her is upper respiratory infection is back.  Sneezilla. Cooder, Emmylou, and I took a riduculous nap this afternoon, like four hours or something. (I hope I can sleep tonight. I'd best look for the ambien. I hadn't had a sleep that deep in ages.) Emmylou took a big step toward catdom today when she sat on my lap for several minutes just to have petting. She has been too much of a squirmudgeon previously. 

And so back to the salt mines of job hunting and the stresses of "down to seeds and stems" as the potheads used to say. Counting pennies, etc. My mood, energy, and hopefulness are up thanks to the weekend. I have one friend who keeps encouraging me to move back to Southern California, les texts:


Lui: The mierda is rattling down the chutes. Many must make decisions or decisions will be made for them. Not to sound dire, though I am, but SoCal may be your best bet for the end game.


Moi: Am I dying?


Lui: Absolutely not. But I am being honest as I am with many people in this quarter year. I don't know why. Maybe it is some sort of "truth telling" season. Look forward ten years and see where you want to be. Don't fake it and expect the fates are going to be kind to you. Hard as it is to say ... The streets are full of those who have.


Moi: Hmmm... more later.

Lui: And those people, Sally, look more and more like people like us. And in fact ... they are us. No fooling. They are us. And they don't get to have cats or books or anything they Fucking can't haul around in a dairy crate. No less smart than you or I [sic]. No less gifted in their time. Fucking terrifying. Window is closing, my Friend. Make plans for it. 

Sorry to be so elegiac but spent 30 minutes with a young friend of mine (39?40?) who will not last another week. I thought, holding her hand, of Miep. 

Shit, Sally, we are treading a thin vail here.

Harrowing.

Moi: Veil. Alarmism? Alarmistism? Darlin', I have no intention or plans to leave ...

To be continued? I just don't see how moving back to Southern California, at least right now, would be either a step forward or any easier than hanging on here ... 

Cosmo saw me off to bed last night. That or he though I might try to do something to Erik and Louise. He sat in my doorway. Actually, he probably wondered where the official occupant of the room, Rachel, might be. (Wisconsin, missed by her cat and her parents.)