Archives for posts with tag: there are verbs involved

I’m sipping my coffee from the relative comfort of the office, having just put the finishing touches on the budget for this payday. I sigh quietly. The big gift-giving holiday of the year is behind me, now, and although the glow and warmth and merriment linger in my recollection and my sense of things, it’s definitely time to put my focus on paying the bills. We’ve got to pay for our fun, and this is a pretty solid, reliable truth of the human experience. Choose your adventure; pay the price of admission. There’s always a price to be paid. Big choices, small choices, moments of overreach, investments in a future we earnestly desire – doesn’t matter “what it’s all about”, sooner or later the bills come due. Running from it just makes the interest pile up (metaphorical or actual – things don’t get less expensive if we try to avoid paying the cost).

I sit with my osteo-arthritis pain; the bill I pay for choosing to live – and to do so without violence. That broken back that griefs me on the regular? I find it hard to feel real regret over that; I chose life, my actual own life, rather than face likely (imminent) death at the hands of my violent ex-husband. Was the price too high? Hardly. It was very much worth the price I’ve paid – and will continue to pay. Doesn’t make it less expensive.

Thankfully, most of the time the bills that come due in life are merely actual bills – the payments we have to make for some moment of fun we chose to have. This morning, I’m looking over my budget, grateful for the job that pays for the life my Traveling Partner and I are fortunate to share at this point in our lives. We’re not wealthy, and probably never will be (I don’t think it’s really a goal for either of us, honestly – we just want to enjoy “enough”), but the pantry is stocked, and we’ve got electricity, heat, running water, and highspeed internet. We’ve got books to read and a well-outfitted shop in which to make things (or fix things). We’ve got our little garden, and our life together. It’s enough. It is, in fact, the best life I’ve personally ever been so fortunate as to enjoy, and it’s definitely worth the price I pay when the bills come due. Isn’t that the important thing? That it feels worth it, I mean? That it feels like enough?

I sit with my gratitude in this quiet moment, hoping that this good time in our life together lasts a good long while. The future isn’t written and the world is full of turmoil. It’s hard to say where the future will take any of us, or how long one mortal life may last. I look over the budget one more time, and ask a question I know matters – although I don’t like to consider it; what can I do to protect my partner’s future from uncertainty if “the ultimate bill” comes due, and he’s left to go on without me? I don’t run from that thought these days – it’s too important to overlook it, and the bills always come due, eventually. That was a hard lesson to learn, but it’s an important one. So, I recommit myself to freedom from debt and building our savings; if either of us is left to deal with life alone, it’d be nice not to worry about debt. We have shared values and a shared understanding on this detail, and we plan together. It’s a partnership, for real. I smile to myself; it feels good to have a proper partner on life’s journey. More to be grateful for.

I sip my coffee. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a mortal life, sure, but so worth taking time to savor each precious moment. I look at the calendar – 4 more days to the near year. Already? Already. Time to begin again.

Alright, People, here we all are, Giftmas is over, and it’s time to get back to work, do the math, pay the bills, and pay attention to what’s going on around us. It’s time to begin again, isn’t it?

…What a lovely holiday it was…

A nice little stack of books.

Among my gifts this year, a book that may well be among the most important I’ll ever read (I’ve already started it). On Tyranny, by Timothy Snyder. I definitely recommend it.

Among the most attention-getting, thought-provoking videos I watched this holiday season was “Why Billionaires Should Be Illegal” by The Market Exit. I recommend both the video and the channel.

Isn’t it time to “level up”? Your survival may depend on it… Just saying, it wouldn’t hurt to continue to learn, and grow, and develop your intellect, and to think critically about the world. Standing around being outraged by the latest repeat of the news and firing off annoyed social media posts is sort of … ineffective, wouldn’t you say? It’s quite likely that people in power count on you being ineffective, ill-informed, and emotionally over-stimulated. My opinion. Perhaps I think too much…

I enjoyed some “me time” this week, focused on art, thinking about next steps for enhancing my selection of hues in my [relatively recently] chosen medium of pastels. I’d rather not compromise on quality or personal preference, and in my case that means I’ll need to break things down and plan ahead; colors are expensive. It’s worth it to put this amount of consideration into something I love so much (a lesson well-learned). I looked over my plan again this morning over my coffee, while some other portion of my brain thought about the book I’m reading, and the state of the world. Which colors must come first to say what I don’t have words for? It’s something I think about a lot.

No walk this morning. The wind was blowing ferociously, and the rain was falling hard – sideways. The streets were littered with downed tree branches, and in a couple spots there were road closures. As I drove toward the trailhead, in the direction of the office, I passed through Newberg; all the lights were out, and the signal lights at each intersection were dark. I passed through Sherwood, too; the lights were out, here and there, and the traffic signals at intersections were all flashing red in all directions. There was lightening at regular intervals in the sky to the north. Nope. No walk today. I went on to the office. It’s empty, and I have this space alone this morning. I arrive first; no coffee. There’s a sign at the reception desk – no receptionist today. They’re on holiday. It’ll likely be a very quiet day here. I pour a cold brew into a clean glass and get started. It’s definitely time to begin again.

…5 days until the clock runs out on 2024…

Mid-morning. I pause work for a break. I refresh my coffee (by pouring cold brew over the ice left from my iced espresso this morning). I breathe, exhale, relax… and re-set. Strange busy morning. I woke early, waited through a moment of intense vertigo. Breathed through some intense early morning back pain. Got my shit together and left for work – and my walk. I kept my walk short and careful in the pre-dawn darkness; the vertigo always spooks me a little bit, and I felt insecure out on the trail away from help if I fell. I headed on in to the office… which was… locked. Weird. Not just, you know, locked in the usual way requiring me to use an app to validate my access and unlock the door for me, nope, it was properly locked with the physical deadbolt. Super weird. I couldn’t get in.

I sat down on the hallway floor by the door, switched to the work profile on my smart phone and alerted my team that I was not able to get into the office, and therefore also not able to log into my computer (I’d left my laptop set up overnight, a rare – and in this instance unfortunate – luxury). Shit. Well, no super early calls, and I could access the team chat and my email from my device. All good. I messaged the co-work space management about the locked door, and hoped that some other early bird with access to the side door might happen along (it has a numerical keypad, for which I don’t personally have a code – never needed one). No such luck; the last Friday before a mid-week Giftmas holiday? Lots of folks are working shorter hours, coming in later, leaving earlier, enjoying the season.

Eventually I lucked out; the co-work space owner responded to me on Slack. She tried to unlock the door remotely, but of course, that deadbolt was the problem. New cleaning crew, apprently. lol We had a laugh, before she gave me a code to access the side door. I headed to my desk and logged in for my next call – on time. Nice. Since then, the day has felt rushed but routine, and I’m fine. No meltdown. No particular stress over it. No harm done. I, too, am enjoying things a little easier, and didn’t really need to be in so early. I lost my “slack time” for reading the news, or writing for a moment, but quickly caught up on the work details, until this later moment – when I often fail myself during the day by not taking a break. So, I’m taking the break I know I need. 😀

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a good day in spite of the oddball moments and unexpected circumstances. I’m fine. It’s a cloudy gray morning. Tomorrow is the Solstice. Today is Friday. It’s all fine. I’m okay for all identifiable definitions of “okay” in this moment right here, now, and it’s enough.

I sip my coffee and get ready to begin again.

Odd morning. Not a bad one at all, just a profound departure from the routine. For one thing, I overslept my artificial sunrise, and woke to the full brightness of the lights in the room, 10 minutes or so later than intended, and far later than typical. I woke in considerable pain, and very stiff, feeling like I’d been sleeping in the same strange position “all night”, with a stiff neck and back. Awkward. I moved slowly through my morning routine, almost leaving the house without putting my shoes on. I arrived at the trailhead emotionally prepared to walk, but feeling less than ideally eager to do so – the crick in my neck was still really super painful (and still is). Rough. I got a short walk in, then headed to the office to… work?

First I sipped coffee. Then I read my email. I watched a couple videos without really paying attention, then listened to some music. It’s been a weird morning. I pulled my attention back to work, and got some things done, now I’m distracted and a bit irritable because somewhere, someone is vacuuming something rather loudly, and the noise is carried through the building – a high pitched whine that I could seriously do without. What a peculiar morning.

I make another cup of coffee. The noise of the vacuuming finally stops. My neck still aches, but I’m not in a bad mood over it. I look at the picture of the Giftmas tree that I snapped this morning on my way to work for some reason – just pure childlike delight, I suppose. I grin to myself happily in spite of the pain in my neck. It’ll pass, eventually. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Only two days to the Winter Solstice. Only a week until Giftmas. Just 13 days to an entirely new year year. Wow. 2025 already here? How the hell did that happen “so fast”? Was I just distracted with the work of worrying and caregiving all year long? Damn. Life feels pretty good right now. This moment right here? Quite a nice one. I smile and take it all in, and sit with these positive hopeful feelings awhile. Soon enough, it’ll be time to begin again, practicing practices, and walking my path. For now though, this moment is enough.

Damn, yesterday ended up being a tough one. It wasn’t that anything particular went wrong, or that there were challenges I couldn’t face. Hell, I wasn’t exactly in a bad mood, even. The day went askew in a strangely emotional way when the office background music began to play “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” in the holiday music mix. Multiple times. Multiple versions. Various singers. No question, an American holiday classic, and it reliably comes up this time of year, sooner or later. For me, it’s simply the saddest and most poignant holiday song ever. It’s a war era (WW II) song, and I reliably hear it sung in the voices of those who will never come home to another holiday. It’s mournful (for me). It’s one holiday song I can’t sing along to; I choke up before I even get the first line sung, and the tears come. I missed an entire holiday season deployed to a war zone myself. We sang this song together, and others, around the diesel stove on winter evenings, fighting off our blues, hoping that we would indeed one day go home for those holidays once more. Some of us don’t ever come home from war. Some of us who do make it home are forever changed by experiences no civilian loved ones can share or truly understand. War is horrible stuff, and the price paid along the way in lives and limbs and souls is far too high. I thought of Gaza. I thought of Ukraine. I thought of Syria. Global conflict. Genocide. The horrors of war. We should maybe stop doing that shit – and I’ll probably always cry when I hear this song. It has real meaning for me. Soldiers kill. Soldiers die. I’ve lost people along the way. My nightmares persist.

…It “broke” my yesterday…

By the time I got home from work, I was pretty much a mess (emotionally) and feeling really low. My Traveling Partner did his best to lift my mood, and together with the Anxious Adventurer we sat around watching “fail videos” and little bits of comic this-n-that, and taking things lightly. I gotta say, my beloved partner’s “emotional slight of hand” was masterful, last night. I had tried to say something about being set off by “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”, and the Anxious Adventurer tried (in a well-intended way) to commiserate by sharing how annoying he finds that one particularly notable Mariah Carey holiday song. Understand me, please, I was not “annoyed”, I was grieving and feeling heart-broken over experiences few civilians share, and that I can’t seem to forget. Before I could flare up, irritable and angry over misperceptions of being “dismissed” or not understood seriously, my Traveling Partner put things on a comic footing in a wholesome loving understanding way, easily distracting me long enough for my unreasonable anger to be defused, unnoticed. No harm done. Fuck I love that man. He can make me laugh when I’m hurting. He can make me cry when I’ve grown jaded.

This morning the first words from my Traveling Partner were words of love and fondness and adoration. He tells me I am precious to him. He tells me he loves me. I feel it. I’m moved and my morning feels… merry. A new beginning. He understands, better than most people, where I’ve been and what I’ve been through. We’ve shared a few years together. We’ve had shared experiences, separately, that are not so commonplace for people generally. He “gets me”, mostly. More so than anyone else has. I feel loved.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m in a different place this morning, although I am sitting in the same chair. I’m wrapped in love. It matters.

Be kind to the veterans in your life, and the survivors of war – you don’t have to know the details of what they’ve been through to care, and to be there as a friend. It matters that you care. It’s enough. Help each other begin again, when things get tough. Share the journey. Hell, just be kind, generally – we’re all going through some shit. It’s a very human experience.

I look at the clock. It’s clearly time to begin again. 14 days to a new year – already? Damn. The time passes so quickly…