IT WILL ONLY BE A JOURNEY

I’ve been home a little over two days now. Last night’s post was written on the ‘plane on the way out. Somehow, I didn’t find the time or the mental space to sit down and write for the entire time I was there. I was so busy eating, drinking, relaxing, and reveling in the sweet sweet company of my friends, I was barely even thinking about anything more than what was the next stop or the next meal or the next bottle of wine (and there were many).

Now, Sunday, Nov. 14.

That's three days now. I am feeling a bit better and adjusting to the time as well. It's already 9:35 and I am not longing for bed yet. I haven't finished unpacking or washing clothes, but making progress.  The weather has been so hot it has been a bit of a shock from me, being a 30 degree difference from NYC. This is good for outside clothes drying, however, even if I don't have a lot of outdoor drying racks. Our dryer is broken and I can't decide whether to get this ancient one fixed or to look for a new one ... (maybe I should get this one fixed while I look for a new one?)

The heat hit me hard, coupled with jet lag, and a slight sore throat, causing me to lay low, in an unproductive way. 

My Town Hall yoga class is back on for December, which is not so very far away, so I need to turn some attention to that. As I haven't been practicing, I need to get back to the rhythm and groove. Visiting New York is rather like an out-of-body experience as contrasted with my days here in California. It was a solid 19 days of visiting, eating, drinking, cooking, and traveling on subways and trains. I am not back to practical eating yet, but I have stopped alcohol consumption and slowed way down on the cheese and carbohydrate consumption. I need to get back to going to the bicycle at the gym.

According to David, Janet did not have any incontinence issues while I was gone, or not that he noticed. I haven't seen any evidence in the three days I have been back, so perhaps that was a preview of things to come and not a new constant state. She does not seem markedly changed, if anything slightly more peppy. The time change had her going to bed extra extra early, then getting up in two hours, about 10-o'clock to ask for a sleeping aid. I suggested she watch more tv as she had gone to bed too soon.

Nina was so happy to see me that she woke me up about 8 or 9 times the first night I was here. She is still waking me up, but not as frequently. I can't say that I mind terribly. David spoiled them while he was here with more food than I generally give them. They loved him and, although he thinks there are too many (as do I), he enjoyed them. We Sybergs have different levels of cat indulgence and David was careful to not move any cats sleeping whether they discomfited him or no. I have no such prejudice unless they are sleeping on my lap.

Janet is off to bed, so perhaps I should wend my way to the front and batten down the hatches to get to sleep myself. Janet did not go to any dominoes games and just sat at home with David. I called the Domineers on Friday to see what they were up to, only to find that Joseph was having trouble getting his breath, so all festivities were off. Having not heard anything else, I think he is probably okay. I will call again tomorrow to see if I can't get her back into that routine.

THE WHITE HOTEL

when winter comes

adjust your voice to it

when the clock dies hide it

from the children

do not resist the urge to travel

it will only be a journey

and there is no arrival

but drive through the desert quickly

it is inhabited by those

in search of death

beside a gabardine sea you will find

the white hotel where bougainvillea

drips from the roof like blood

dim lights will be on in the hallway

a long moss carpet

flowing past a wilderness of doors

stairs crowded with unpredictable

lovers and assassins

in the bar new arrivals

celebrate reunions by throwing

their glasses into the fireplace

others just drop them on the floor

when anything falls down

in this hotel it lies there forever

all night they will sing old songs

when the shoe tree blooms

in the desert

and the ice plant melts by the sea

all night the water will rest

quietly in its blue tomb

at dawn when palm trees

wave their arms as they do at the slightest

change in plans you will watch

the waves send up

fine contingents of water

each retreating without losing its courage

thousands of white truces

negotiated on the sand

and with your pulse beating for distance

your hair turning to salt

you will walk into the water

and say because of its great depth

the sea can forgive anything

but do not linger 

at the white hotel or soon you will learn

that memory is the only

kind of loss we ever know

— Richard Shelton, Selected Poems, 1969-1981, University of Pittsburgh Press, Pittsburgh, 1982

Louise and Erik's cat, Topper.