Weeks slip like gears on an old bike

This week *is* a confession in and of itself. A complication of emotions, friendships, family relations and work all in a simmering muddle. Quite normal, all that said.

~ I forgot to mention last week that my husband is unemployed.
~ It’s not as bad as it seems: he actually sold his business to his partner the end of the year. But the timing is not perfect; perfect would have been in a year, when he turns 62 1/2. Now he is unemployed before retirement can kick in. And with the economy, that is a bit of a worry. But we are simple people and can manage.
~ We are not *simple* people, but we can still manage.
~ I am jealous of his extra time and yet relieved, too. He will feel better.
~ My husband needed to stop physical work (he had a carpet cleaning business) because he has arthritis and aches & pains that require rest to heal. Now he can do that. Rest and work out (he has been going 6 days a week, resting on Saturday).
~ The PoCo project got complicated this last week, but seems to be getting back on track.
~ Carolee and my poem is making progress, and no matter what, I love it.
~ Things are in the works to make Read Write Poem less complicated, and that feels good. But we’ll see. I have spent a lot of time on it in the past year. When faced with more time to actually write, will I do it or will I find another distraction?
~ I have two ideas for essays to explore. One has a lot of traction for me: Doing My Best. I have a complicated relationship with that concept. I usually take it to mean: “Oh, you came in 2nd.” Or “Loser.” Or “Your best is not good enough.” And that is pretty damn ridiculous. If doing my best was all I ever strove for, then I would be damn pleased at the end of my life. It’s something to explore. I want to find the right vehicle now. Essay (where I am leaning), story (what story, this is a hard one), or a poem (hmmm). I should probably try all three as free-writes and studies and see what developed.
~ I want to talk about Whirling Dervish getting married, but it is her story to tell, not mine. Damn.
~ I head to AZ on Friday to see my parents. The timing is working out. The delayed holiday visit allows me to be there while she is having her angiogram/plasty, the next step to see if her doctor will recommend invasive surgery. Surgery that *I* don’t think she can take.
~ Kitty Louis is alive, having more bad days. He had a spell of good days, and has lived longer than I would thought last fall. Maybe this is a trend all the way around.
~ My grandmother’s little brother died last week at 81. I hadn’t talked to him for a long while — maybe 8 months or so — because he kept sending inflammatory right-wing anti-Obama emails (you know the ones, probably) that I replied to “all” saying I was a big Obama supporter and that my husband replied to him with a “cease and desist unless you want to have a one-on-one discussion about the facts” email. Uncle took us off his email list. And didn’t return my last phone call to him, although he may have been sick and never got it. I don’t know.

I’ll be with my parents for the inauguration. Rather than Christmas. To be honest, I think the inauguration is a much more important event.

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