For now…

There is only one reason to write.  Because you must.  You can join a workshop, read a ‘self help’ book, take a class or join a silly writers bootcamp, but that’s forcing the issue.  Write because you have something to say.  Something that has to come out of you or you’ll explode.  Write because you have to.  There is absolutely no other reason to do it.

Where have i been lately?

Living well.  Loving well.  Being well.  Rolling in life like a dog on a dead fish.

i don’t have a lot to say.  These days?  i spend a lot of time laughing and dancing.  So i’ll let these photos of me and me doggie say it…

We are all about “now”.  Because it won’t last.  Nothing does.

brown dog rompi love.  i am loved.  what the fuck else is there?

brown dog slobberWhat is your legacy?  What REALLY matters when we’re all reduced to carbon?


THIS link – thanks to The Unbearable Banishment.  Mr. Bukowski says it far better than i ever could… and since i’m not a writer, i suppose that should come as no big surprise!

Nicely done

The week before Christmas, i went to have lunch with Edna again.  Her daughter-in-law took the opportunity to scoot out for some necessary shopping – and a caregiver break.  Hauling in some home made chicken noodle soup, zucchini bread* and oatmeal cookies, we had a chance to just sit and catch up a bit.

Most of the conversation was on the subject of Edna’s frustrations with the current situation.  She bemoaned her loss of independence, as well as the general annoyance of having people living with her – even if it was for her own care and safety.  Family drama was at the forefront as well, with holidays bringing conflicting familial obligations and logistics nightmares.

Complaining that her daughter-in-law wouldn’t let her do anything, she offered me a cup of coffee.  Getting the message loud and clear, i stood back and let her go fix me a cup.  Terminally ill, and rail thin, she managed it quite well.  Tasted pretty good, too, with some of those oatmeal cookies.

Once she’d vented, she moved on to the subject of death.  She said “I just want to be done with it”.  It was her plan to send her son and daughter-in-law back home after the holidays and let go.  She was ready. 

The home health care nurse, provided by Hospice, came by for a visit while i was there.  Edna weighed in at 59 pounds.  That’s about 35 pounds less than my dog weighs.  With the approval of the nurse, we planned a short visit with the people at work after the new year.  So long as Edna brought her walker, the nurse said it should be ok for a short outing.

Her plans for New Year’s Eve?  Stop taking her medications that morning and open a bottle of Zinfandel that night!  A gentle reminder from the nurse that given her weight, a drink or two would probably be plenty.  Edna suddenly seemed slightly hard of hearing…

i got the call early this morning that Edna died before dawn.  As she wanted it, she was home, she was asleep, and without pain.  She donated her body to the local medical school, and they were there to retrieve her body within a couple hours.  She requested no memorial service, no funeral, and no fuss. 

Though i’ll probably wait a week, i will check in with her daughter-in-law to see if she was able to open that bottle of wine…

Thank you, Miss Edna.  It has been my pleasure…


* Another friend provided the soup and bread, as my cooking is often suspect.  When we were trying to put weight on Edna, i made her a strawberry banana smoothie, infused with protein powder.  This led to a rather serious bout of greased intestines, so Edna accused me of trying to kill her.  We all agreed that it would be best for me to stick to cookies in the future…