For My Friends Who Are Sad…


In case you can’t see the meme

10 Things to Say Instead of ‘Stop Crying’:
1. It’s okay to be sad.
2. This is really hard for you.
3. I’m here for you.
4. Tell me about it.
5. I hear you.
6. That was really scary, sad, etc.
7. I will help you work it out.
8. I’m listening.
9. I hear that you need space. I want to be here for you. I’ll stay close so you can find me when you’re ready.
10. It doesn’t feel fair.

[A cloud cries tears into an ocean; a small sailboat carrying a bearded person holding up a bucket is on the waves; each wave contains one of the things to say.]


Saturday Sunshine


In case you couldn’t see the meme:

Mary Oliver: “I Worried”

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.

FFF – 2-9

I was reading Vesta’s submission – she was talking about her husband.

“What I have noticed is that as my husband became immersed in the body form, in his own body form, a sense of space quietly began to be lost, like air being sucked out of a blow up swimming pool that has developed a small puncture.

As conversation reduced to talk of salt, and the evils of sugar, the benefits of magnesium and calcium, there was less and less room for a sense of sacred union. Anxiousness about the body form, about survival I guess, or perhaps preoccupations with wellness, took over the space and left not enough room for touch, togetherness, a sense of being spiritually alive.

With nearly every comment he makes of this sort, and his insistence that I give my heartfelt agreement, I feel further removed…”

I’ve been doing a bunch of medical appointments this year – i’ve named it “The Year of the Doctor.”  For the last 3 – 4 years, i had really only gone to the doctor if I was sick.  Once to get my blood pressure meds, but not again.  Not for a mammogram.  Not for a colonoscopy.  Not for the follow-up blood-work they wanted me to do  Not for any of that.

This year, I’m doing all the things.  Colonoscopy – check.  Mammogram – coming up.  Problem with my foot – working on it.  But i can see how easy it would be to get caught up in all of this physical stuff.  The more I do, the more they want me to do.  I’ve gone from lab work once a year to lab work every 3 months – to make sure my kidneys are still working, because of the blood pressure meds I’m on now, to make sure my blood pressure is perfect.  I’ll get another shot in my foot today.   If that doesn’t work, we’re looking at more invasive procedures.  I’ve got follow-ups and check-ins – this week, I had three doctor appointments.  That’s insane.

So I can see how easy it would be to get caught up in this stuff to the point that if someone says, “How ya doing?” i might find myself responding, “Well, they just about got my blood pressure down to what they want it to be, and my foot’s doing a lot better, even though I still can’t wear heels, and …”

I”m doing some proactive work on Alzheimer’s too.  Not that I have Alzheimers, or any form of dementia at the moment, but it runs in my family.  The women in my family live a long time, and most of them end up losing their minds long before they die.  I would prefer not to do that.

My mother was really smart.  So she was able to cover up the difficulty she was having pretty successfully for so many years that by the time we – my sister and I – realized what was happening – it had already happened.  She couldn’t take medication for it not only because she couldn’t remember to take it, but she couldn’t remember what she was taking it for or that she’d agreed to it.  There’s a lot of stigma and shame about losing your memory, but pretending you’re fine is not really a good solution.

I am still fine -but I’ve had this weird memory quirk with using the wrong word that seemed different to me.  So we’ve done some checking – an MRI, mostly – and next week I’m going to take a test of cognitive abilities which will at least give us a baseline of where I am now.

I don’t intend to thwart death, but the progression of Alzheimer’s can be slowed if you catch it early.  I’d like that to be me.  And I think that talking about it – here and other places – is one way I can begin to reduce the stigma and shame around it.

Now, as for the rest of that FFF stuff, I met my exercise and dance goals, didn’t lose an ounce, didn’t count calories, and didn’t organize a damn thing.  Man.  I’m living a one-star life.   I did go to the beach, and walked in the calming air of the ocean, waves breaking just a few feet away, wind beating at me, feeling that immediate sense of well-being the ocean brings me.  I ate less a couple of days, applied for a loan to buy a house, and am using my Dragontree journal!!   And it’s ok.  It’s a new week.  We’ll try again.




When I’m Sixty-Two…

Ok, the song is when i’m 64, and i’m not going to be 64 for a couple more years.   But I am about to turn 62 in a few short weeks.   And still appraising and re-appraising my life.

“We have not yet arrived, but every point at which we stop requires a re-definition of our destination.”
— Ben Okri, Tales of Freedom

Yesterday, i did a belly dance video.  When I say “did” i mean i followed it.  Um, danced to it.  (check my FFF goal!)  It was definitely a beginners video.  Just walked us through the steps.  i managed to feel a bit irritated with myself when i couldn’t follow the all moves.

Yep.  Irritated.

I haven’t done one single shimmy in about 5 years and i still had to remind myself several times that i wasn’t supposed to be able to do it as well as I once did immediately. Then i vacillated between “i’m going to be that amazing 70 year old woman who can belly dance,” and “i’m the most ridiculous belly dancer ever.”  Reminded myself that really none of that matters.  And just enjoyed doing what it as well as i could.


Then i went out last night with MP to watch the game -yes, the football game, which is pretty meaningless to me because I don’t watch football and don’t appreciate the commercials and we left at half-time.  This morning, it occurred to me that just being there was still supporting the NFL  Drat, that was not my intention.  Sigh.

i also drank about 3 glasses of wine and ate more than i needed to, so let’s hope i can do better today.

Where is my spanking when i need it?

No, i’m no closer to that goal – receiving some expert spanking – than i was months ago, or not much closer.  Well, maybe an inch or two closer, but more on that another time.  The only thing stopping me at this point is me.

I am, however, feeling more like Hecate every day.  So that’s kinda cool




For fucks sake – oh wait, no, that would be FFS.  FFF is For Fit Friday, started by my friend Fondles!  And i was supposed to post my goals yesterday, only I didn’t even think about it til I saw abby’s post today.

But i was traveling and working and i pretty much lost track of everything.  Sigh.

Goals.  I am good at creating goals.  So here we go.

  • Eat less
    • Use my stupid Fitbit to count calories
    • Reduce carbs and sugar.  Cut the obvious ones.  Pasta.  Ice Cream.
    • Eat 3 meals and 1 snack per day – no more.
  • Move more
    • Pay attention to my stupid Fitbit when it tells me to move to get my 250 steps/hr (when possible.)
    • Do some kind of yoga once a week.
      • Use the gift certificate I have for 3 free yoga classes
    • Do some kind of dance once a week
    • Do a walking video twice a week
    • Spend 20-30 minutes organizing stuff at least 4 day/week
  • At least twice a week, do one of the many things on my to-do list that I’ve been putting of doing.

Ok, now i’ll go record all this in my Dragontree Planner.  See ya next Friday!!  Or sooner, maybe.


What About a BDSM-Based Life Coach?

I’m imagining someone – a Dom – who’s willing to help people – um, submissive people – meet whatever life goals they have.  Only instead of coaching, they use a paddle.  And other disciplinary techniques.

I have a job coach now, well, a “leadership” coach.  I’m sure it will be interesting and probably helpful.  But think how much fun it would be if it were combined with BDSM.

He’d have to accept you as a student first.  It wouldn’t be about the relationship with him except for him (or her) being a mentor.  And the Master.

Having orgasms would be a reward for meeting goals.  It wouldn’t be about pleasuring him as a goal, it would be your own life-enhancing goals, supported by his discipline.  So instead of sex with him as a common-place, that might become a big reward as you grew to respect and honor him.

Hmmmmmm {Walks away thinking…}