Who's in charge here, anyway?

So, lately I have been experiencing something interesting. There is a segment of me that I have buried deeply in recent years. It is covered over by a tough, scaly callous, and honestly I forgot it was even down there. Until now. Little glimmers of past-ness are gleaming through in spots. I sat on my couch this evening and I actually felt it a little bit, like a vague warmth from someplace within.

I have been so damn angry for so long. It has cast a villainous shadow over everything else that is me. Yet I am astonished that THIS lay dormant and buried for so long that it was almost forgotten. This, that has always been of the most importance to me.

My father and I shared a common passion for all things related to Early Christianity, particularly the beginnings of monasticism, and the Middle Ages. I am a historian because of my father. He told stories--amazing stories--about the lives of people in the medieval world. I grew up in an Old Church world, the scent of incense in my hair and Latin hymns in my ears. I studied liturgy and ritual and philosophy and all things sacred. It resounded within me. And for me.

And when he died, that world died with him. I have not been to church. I have not opened a single book that I took from his office. I couldn't, because that was the thing he and I shared with nobody else in our family.

And now I am back in school, and studying--guess what?--Christianity and the early medieval period. Monasticism in the Celtic world. And every day for the past month I have railed at the knowledge that he is not here to help me, not here to cheer me on. I know he'd be so happy I am doing this. He'd read along with me, give me research topic ideas, send me books. I miss him. There is nobody else with his peculiar base of knowledge.

Well, except now, maybe me.

So I have begun to wonder. Is he up there running things the way he wants them run? He wasn't bossy, but he was a great leader, and somehow always ended up in charge of everything. And he liked it. I could imagine that he got there and didn't like how things were going, so he just took over. And since he's in charge, may as well check out what's going on with the kid, right?

Is he the cause of all this? Was it his nudging that brought me to this point? Did he somehow know this was what I needed to reclaim him, and myself?

Or am I becoming him? I am reading his books. Listening to his music. Immersing myself in the jewel-toned world he loved. I opened a book yesterday that he used in seminary. It had his name, 1962. And his painstaking underlinings, razor-straight, just where I would have put them.

Is it him that I feel gleaming through, or just a part of me that got buried with him when he died? And perhaps it doesn't matter. Perhaps they are one and the same.

The worst

Well, today was a bad day. A follow-up visit to our veterinarian, Dr. Jeff, has brought sad news. Dexter has a small tear in his ACL. He's had a limp, and we tried some anti-inflammatories to see if it was something less serious. After a month of medication, it seems no better, and in fact a bit worse. We have 3 weeks before the surgeon comes back to town. The surgery is to support that part of Dex's leg with a sort of metal rod type thing. The good news, according to Dr. Jeff, is that we may have caught it soon enough that no damage has happened to the other leg as a result of Dex favoring sore leg #1. The bad news is it takes about 6 months to recuperate. My poor little guy. No running or playing or even walking for a long time. I wish I could make him understand that it has to happen to make him better. Meanwhile, what the heck am I going to do with a bored dog, cooped up in the house for 6 months??? Maybe I can teach him to knit. Or play chess.

McCain selects Palin as running mate

Not to get all politicky on you, but McCain has just announced his selection for VP. Sarah Palin, the governor of my own state of Alaska. Interesting choice. My husband and I speculated months ago about this possibly happening. While she comes from a state with only 2 electoral votes, as opposed to one of the more populated states down south, she is a strong leader and has been systematically beating down corruption in our state since her election. Her position on Anwar is opposite that of McCain, and since it IS her state, I'd like to think that will weigh in a bit as well. She's obviously female, so she fills the billet emptied by the dreaded HC, but she is prettier, softer, younger, and not evil, as far as I can tell. She has a handicapped kid. She's not one of the DC parasites. Bound to help against Obama. Should McCain become president and die (he's older than dirt, folks), she is a capable person to run the country. And somehow it doesn't seem to be a big deal that she' a woman. Maybe because that isn't all she has to offer.

I think it was a smart choice, and like I said, an interesting one.

Funny thing. In the Yahoo News article about this choice, the last line reads:

She and her husband Todd Palin, have five children. The latest, a baby, was born with Down syndrome.

Of course it's a baby. What the hell do you think it is??? A puppy???

ha.

Link:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080829/ap_on_el_pr/cvn_veepstakes

Today

Today is my birthday. I am 36 years old, and that's fine with me. Most everyone I know has a little breakdown each year when their birthdays arrive. Oh, I'm so ooooold, they whine. It's so terrible, not being 22 anymore....etc., etc. Bloody hell. Are you kidding me? I am smarter and stronger and healthier and wiser and better every year that passes. I'd rather age than die, which seems to be the only alternative I can think of. These same people loudly proclaim their intent to Not Celebrate said birthday. Okay, so nobody acknowledges it, and they complain about being forgotten. The next year everyone gets them a gift, and they complain about THAT. Sigh. It makes me tired.

Celebrate your birthday. it's important. Once you lose someone you love, the birthdays you celebrated with him rise up vividly in your mind, and you see how truly you aren't celebrating just a day of birth, but another year of life. Let people appreciate you on your birthday. Shut the fuck up about how old you like to think you are. Enjoy it, and allow your loved ones to enjoy it as well. It could be the last one for you, or someone with you. How sad and selfish it would be if you died and all they had to remember from this year's birthday was you bitching and complaining about aging.

So, what am I doing to enjoy today? I took my dog, whom I love most of all, for an hour-long walk in the rain this morning. We went a different route than usual, sniffed new stuff, peed on new trees (well, he did; I had already peed at home), enjoyed the cool, wet morning, and talked about stuff we like to do. We went to the beach and watched the water and poked around in the seaweed and beach detritus. It was nice. Now I am having coffee and reading my email and in a few minutes I will find a book or some knitting, and sit on the couch with my coffee and bask in the quietness of my house. This evening my husband and I will have sushi with another couple who are our good friends and neighbors. There are some gifts on the table in the dining room to unwrap. And after all that, another walk with my dog.

It may not sound like much to you, but it is precisely what I want to do with my birthday this year.

Subsisting

Saturday was a fishing day. My brother was in town, so it was a big treat for him: fishing in the cold Alaskan seas for king salmon and halibut. Many people never get to do that. Most who DO get to fish here do so on a charter, and pay handsomely for the trip.

For me, though, it was a grocery procurement trip. Yes, I love being on the water, especially when the weather is nice, and the whales are breaching alongside the boat and the gulls are wheeling overhead. I can't imagine a better place to spend a day.

But what it's really about it getting the fish. See, up here food is really expensive, and often in winter there just isn't much to be had, as bad weather means no barge, and the barge is what our food comes in on. We have a lot of bad weather, and therefore there are often times when we wait and wait and wait for the barge. Ah, island living. Anyhow, so I go fishing to catch fish that I then put in my freezer so we can eat all winter long.

Saturday was a good day fishing. We caught some kings, including a rare white king, a halibut, a rockfish, two starfish and a skate. We put the last three items back. One of the starfish had a collection of seashells in his possession, and was munching on a barnacle. Well, it sort of seemed like it was stuck to his lip. If a starfish has a lip. Either way, he was really loaded down.

We also caught a bucket of herring early in the day to serve as our bait. If you catch the herring, you get free bait. If you buy it, it's several dollars per bag. Why would anyone buy it??? Catching herring is ridiculously easy and lots of fun. You find a school of herring, drop the herring line over, pull it up and it's full of fish. Rinse and repeat. In 20 minutes you have a full bait bucket. I thought we really needed some circus music to play while we got the herring, as they are wiggly and slippery little devils, and getting them from the hook to the bucket is nothing short of comedic.

The best part? Heh. I got to drive the boat. Nothing is more fun than flying through the water on a sunny day, waving at the other boats, watching sea otters, sea lions and puffins bobbing in your wake. We cleaned fish until almost 11 pm, but it was a great day and my freezer is filling up nicely.

Do I know you???

Ever have one of those dreams that cause you, upon waking, to go "WHAT THE FUCK???"

I do. A lot of them. Last night, though, was a bit stranger than usual.

Now, I say that with the assumption that you realize most of my dreams involve zombies, headless corpses (is it REALLY corpsi in the plural?? Can't be...right?), gallons of blood, creaky doors in dark Victorian houses, and so forth. My dream last night didn't have all of that. That's what made it so strange.

In the dream I am with a group of people, some I know in real life, and some I do not, and included in the group is a man that I want. I burn for him, and he for me. I know his face, his mannerisms, his voice, his smell. This isn't a SEX DREAM. There is sex in it, but that's not the point. The gist of the story is that he is the (brother, best friend, whatever) of the man to whom I am attached (in the dream, not for real). The man to whom I am attached is sullen and angry and overall quite unpleasant. I'm not impressed. But the man for whom I burn is...just what I want. Quiet, capable, intense. A crisis happens. Not sure what it was. In the dark, the man for whom I burn and I slip off to a quiet spot and...just imagine, if you will, wanting a person who is so close to you but so impossible to have, for months, maybe years, and then in an unexpected moment, having the wished-for situation become real.

Here's what I am trying to get at here...

I KNEW this man. I knew him and everything about him. But in real life, this man does not exist. Does he? Is he someone I passed on the street, bumped into on a subway, glimpsed through a cafe window? I don't know. I am not sure how my mind in repose could develop so fully a character such as this. I'm awake, and I can still hear his voice, recall the feel of his hair, the smell of his skin. I know his sense of humor, the way he likes his...er...coffee.

And why? Surely some of you are thinking I am compensating for an unhappy situation in my own personal life and I can assure you that is not the case. I am confused at the seeming randomness of this dream.

I worry about this man that I know but may not exist. Is there another plane of existence somewhere past the dreaming mind that is populated by these people who otherwise exist only in the dreams of the sleeping? Does he remember me? Did he dream about me, or was it all real to him? Am I (the dream me) still there with him now, or did I disappear when I awoke? Is he the ghost of a dead man? An imprint of a man from another time and place, somehow passing through my unconscious mind in the night? Why MY dream?

Where is he now?

And yeah, the sex was pretty dang good. Holy Crow.

*snort*

Breakfast

Yesterday morning I walked my dog in the woods. As I walked, I filled two coffee mugs with salmon berries from the bushes along the trail. Big, juicy, dark red salmonberries, perfect and ready to eat. Dexter tried a couple, but spit them out. Funny texture. He likes them just fine pureed.

Salmonberries, for those who are unfamiliar, are similar to a raspberry, and they are the ubiquitous shrubbery here in my part of the world. The flowers are tiny and dark pink in the spring (our spring, not the rest of the world's spring), and then come the berries, as per usual with plants.

Anyhow, back to my story. So we finished our walk, and we had 2 mugs of berries. We brought them home and plopped them right on top of our cereal (not the dog...he had something else for breakfast...I meant my husband and I), and there it was.

How often in life do you get to pick your breakfast on your morning walk??

On days like this, I rejoice in the wilderness that is my home, and I am so grateful to live here for a time. I have no keys to my house, no doors are locked, there are no traffic lights, and outside my door are acres upon acres of woodland for my dog and I to explore.

Lucky, lucky me.