The week

I had a really good tomato salad on toasted baguette this morning.  It had the perfect balance, and I find I want no other taste, so I guess I'm satiated.

I felt an embarrassment of riches yesterday, and I prepared a bunch of food, but ate leftovers.  Half motivated.  Mostly stayed off-line, so even though I slept a good chunk of the day, I also managed to read, clean the bathroom, wash laundry (so, it'd have time to air dry...our dryer has been busted a good two out of the past eight months), go grocery shopping.  Feels decadent and productive; I blew off any expectations, feeling buried in "shoulds."

On Saturday, I took my sheets over to a friend's house to use his washer/dryer, as my drying rack can't accommodate them, and I'd been having night sweats and really needed to wash them.  Was holding out for the landlord to come through, but he just sent out a link to a laundry mat.  Sigh.  We went out for dumplings while the wash ran.  (The food was wonderful.)

I woke up on Friday morning with the right side of my throat swollen, as if I had inhaled an insect in my sleep and it had become lodged somewhere in my sinus tract.  Hurt to talk.  Hurt to swallow.  Went to work anyway because I needed to take care of some project stuff, but then went home after three hours.  Dosed up on elderberry syrup and tea and listened to the radio.  On Saturday morning, it hadn't improved, debated with self if I should go to a pharmacy and see if someone could run a test for strep.  Went for a walk instead, to visit the lake.  A misty rain greeted me when I got there.  Walked anyway.  Went to the farmers' market.  Smacked my head with a glass bottle because I forgot I was carrying it in my bag, and threw the bag over my head in an attempt to evade a crow's angry dive.  Made plans to meet my friend, and by the time he stopped by to pick me (and my laundry) up, the throat pain was fading.  By the time we finished lunch, it was gone.

Last week was rough.  Part of me thinks that throat pain was collective grief.

The prior Friday I gone to a professional baseball game, I've only ever gone to one other, and all I remembered about that was that we were in nosebleed seats, and the most interesting thing that happened that night was as giant carrot walking through the bleachers and people scrambling to get a picture with it.  I'd been on the fence about going again, but I think I'd said I was interested, and someone sent me a ticket in the mail, so that sealed it.  Anyway, this one was really fun.  I know next-to-nothing about baseball, but the people on either side of me were fans, and seemed happy to explain what was going on.  It was a good game, too.  We won, and there was a fireworks show after.

Saturday morning, a man in my basement told me my housemate was in jail for assault.  He was a friend who'd been staying with her in our house for a while, I guess.  I had to work at On the Boards, so I let it go.  While at work, I got a series of frantic texts from one of my other housemates, regarding the person I'd met earlier.  I don't know what's true, but my housemate was trying to get a hold of our landlord to get the locks changed.  Across the board, all eight shows of the NWNW were fantastic, but I was overly distracted during the final showcase because I was trying to figure out if it was safe to go home, and I was having trouble reaching anyone.  Finally, one of the men who lives next to me, told me he was home and would be home all night, so I wouldn't be home alone.  The housemate who'd been in jail, had moved out earlier in the day, but the stranger still had access to our house.  It was late when I arrived home, but without incident.

On Sunday, I went to the zoo, to get out of the house.  The landlord finally stopped by and changed the locks.  I called home for Father's Day.  Got some difficult news.

Monday, the head of my work area called me over, said he needed to talk to me.  My colleague's (and friend) partner had been killed on Sunday.

On Wednesday, my boss called me over, and told me another colleague/friend's mother had been killed in a car accident on Tuesday.

On Wednesday or Thursday, my sister contacted me regarding my parents.

I started reading a book of essays about sexual assault, "Not that Bad," Roxane Gay, and another book of first-hand experiences regarding the changes in the USSR/Russia since 1991, "Secondhand Time," Svetlana Alexievich, and seeing parallels.  And I kept finding myself holding my breath while I was reading, so much so that I had to keep forcing myself to inhale.

So, grief?  Yeah.  And I cried some last week for my friends, and for myself.  But I don't feel a great need to cry, and I don't know what to do about the grief.  It isn't overwhelming, still, solid, and assertive in the pain.  Maybe it only needed to be acknowledged.  So I did.  But I also want to take pleasure in things, like the feel of the sun, or the breeze, or the rain, or the perfectly balanced flavor of the salad.  To be present, and take care of what I can, and only that.  I'm trying to learn how to not dissolve into someone else's needs.  I'm trying to learn to stop losing track of myself.  I'm trying to learn to stay visible and real to myself.

Sunday

The crow gets me as soon as I get to the sidewalk, swoops down from the apartment roof across the street, just when I think the coast is clear.  The baby is in the tree just beyond our front steps.  I went to the coffee shop to write, first time in a long while.  A crow was waiting again for me, this time in the alley as I made my way back home.  Right before the walkway to the back door, I was greeted with a sudden agitated cawing.  I tossed out a piece of an omelette I was carrying, it appeased a different crow, one I wasn't aware of, who dropped down out of the neighbor's yard to snag it, but I was able to get into the house.  Can hear angry cawing outside, down the street; another interloper to ward off.  Sigh.  I'll need to get a big hat or something.

49 degrees this morning: Junuary, indeed.  High today is only 60 F.  My watermelons sprouted a couple weeks ago, but have been dormant since.  Now it's too cold to transplant.  Had a staged reading last night.  Our call was 7 pm, left with what I thought was sufficient time, and decided to take the light rail rather than the bus, as bus got stuck in traffic and I was late to rehearsal earlier in the week.  Made it to the U-District by bus on way to the light rail station, only to be stuck in traffic once again, having forgotten that it had been the UW's graduation earlier in the afternoon.  Beat the predicted rain, or so I thought, and made it to the International District with a little time to spare, so walked to Pioneer Square for coffee, and as soon as I got to the counter to order, I looked out the windows to see people covering their heads and cowering under awnings in the sudden downpour.  So I got drenched afterall.  At least the plants I have in the ground are getting adequately watered.

Wanted to stay for the talk-back after the reading (the play was about Enron and it's aftermath), but didn't relish waiting at my bus stop Downtown late, so, asked a friend that was leaving for a ride.  He was taking a car share.  Put in both our addresses before his phone died.  Driver took him home, but the reservation had dropped my address.  My friend got out of the car and left me there, not concerned if I got home safely or not, saying some incoherent thing about his cat being outside.  Making me feel like I shouldn't have taken him up on his offer to be able to ask him for a ride.  I guess it should've been enough that he showed up to the show (I appreciate that, I do.)  The driver said he'd take me home if it was less than two miles, which it was, so he did.  I could've walked, I suppose, but I appreciated him taking me home: it was late, deserted, and there's an unavoidable sketchy stretch.  I made it home.

Have notes for myself regarding the performance, but it's all a learning experience, and it was fun.  Makes me want to make more of an effort to do it more.  I have so much to catch up on.  Finally have the energy, and the time.  (Bought workshop access, online, months ago, that I haven't had the energy to devote myself to, but am finally coming back into clear enough mental space...three of them, actually.)

The wind is kicking up, I can see trees waving, and birds flying close to the window.  I'm working later today, but rains means I can stay inside until then...maybe the crows will let me leave the house in peace.

The rain has begun.