It's nice to know that some things remain in an ever-changing world. February has always either sucked or blown and this year's edition is no different.
On the heels of the 19th anny of my mom's death came the news that my old friend Mare probably has countable weeks left in this dimension. Her siblings aren't hearing what she tells them and she's angry and frustrated. Even Billy keeps coming up with crackpot cancer cures. At least her hub and kids get it. The cancer treatments she's endured made me sure I'll never do them. She's fought every inch, but it was 4th stage ovarian cancer when found, and there's no real treatment for it. This is how my mom died, too. I've known Mare since 1986, she was Mom's friend and favorite daughter before I ever met her. Mare's cousin and I worked together at the Restaurant School, and laughed at this weird connection. Mare took the weekend trips with the p's that I had no interest in, was at all the family get-togethers. She did the life choices Mom thought I should do. After the p's died we were down to holiday cards. Then Facebook happened, and we reconnected, and then she got the diagnosis. This is suckage of a supreme order.
The Shire's closing looms, and after perusing the rules for the new Red Rover building, I'm not going there. Claiming Beest as a "comfort animal" is ridiculous, and no, I won't live anywhere that I can't practice my personal beliefs. So screw it. I don't know where I'll go, or what's even within possibilities, so that process starts tomorrow morning. This blows. Hard.
The last few weeks have been productive writing-the-book-wise and it's been a saving grace. I'm also 100% sure my writing sucks, my ideas suck, I suck, and I'm wasting my time even thinking I could do this. But on it goes.
There are great gaping holes in my life where people used to be. Again, February. The month of purification and what survives among the dead.
If I can't eat normal food again soon I'll go nuts. Since quitting tobacco, I'm a bitch on wheels anyway. Take away everything but soft and overboiled stuff with no spices and imagine what a delight I am. I can't stand myself.
And to wind up this rant, the weather is a miserable wet smelly old blanket that was laying in the mud under the snow and has now been dragged out into the yard by the dog, where it's been pissed on repeatedly. There has been no Winter. 2 days of cold is not Winter. No Winter= no pain relief.
I hope things are better where you are and that this year so far has been healing and hopeful. Whatever else, we abide.
Spot The Dog.
2 days ago