Well, Howdy! Starting again. Again.

It's been a while, but as a blog offers both a comfortable space and an opportunity, my therapist suggested I try again. So!

The fabulous news of Trump's newest indictment is top of mind. I cannot believe how many Amurikans continue to believe and support that twit. His howls of purported rage are, IMHO, those of a hyper-spoiled brat who has never had to face any consequences for his stupidity and venality. The fact that it's Georgia makes it all the more surprising: Georgia is conservative and a bit backward, but they are, to date, the only state that has the people who are willing to call a crime a crime in this case. For him, Georgia used to be little more than a fly-over, a minor irritation when they didn't always dance to his fiddle. For them to charge him and insist that he surrender? Please let this be the humiliation he so richly deserves.

And the RICO elements? I swooned. 41 counts, 19 defendants... and so much evidence! Lordy, what that man and his enablers have done. I am still not sure that this country can ever recover from the damage that  the GOP has done over the past half century: Nixon's venality, Reagan's reckless anti-governing attitudes, the Tea Party's canonization of Reagan and his legend (which blithely ignored all the damage he did and further undermined the social contract),  Newt Gingrich, Tom Delay, the Bush Boys back room presidencies, Dick Cheney (war criminal)... and then... OMG, the Moscow Mitch degradations. Paul Ryan. Donald Trump. Kevin McCarthy. Marjorie Taylor-Green. And the politics of fear mongering... remember how horrified we were when Bush Sr (already tarred and damaged by Iran-Contra) was running against Michael Dukakis, and used the Willie Horton case to re-invigorate his campaign? The Republicans had been encoding fear politics into their programs and platforms for years - that was, for me, the first time I personally saw an overt appeal based on racism by the Republicans (which says much about my socialization and blinders, doesn't it..?). Then the Tea Party's pettiness and the disgrace that is Newt Gingrich. It's a long and distressing litany of old white men who sought personal power at the expense of American-style democracy. And all too frequently, not only redefined those traditions, but degraded us all.

So yeah, I pleased that finally somebody called a crime a crime. And is going after the Trump Cabal. Too bad Fani Willis is such a unicorn, and no wonder that a local Republican state lawmaker is calling for her impeachment. May he rot in Trump Hell.

Beyond that...

The Ukraine war is an ongoing tragedy, which Americans would prefer to forget. No, we want to cry for the people of Lahaina in Hawaii. That is not to say that Lahaina isn't tragic, and horrific. It is simply on a totally different scale than the nightmares that Putin and his cronies are imposing on Ukraine. Americans tend to be insular and thoroughly sold on the idea of American exceptionalism, and get downright nasty and even violent when that is questioned. So yes, I feel sympathy for those who've suffered in Lahaina, as I do for those in Lytton BC. And those all over the world whose homes and livelihoods were destroyed by fire, war, greed, environmental catastrophe, climate change, etc.. I cringe when Americans focus only on the local and refuse to acknowledge the loss and humanity of those outside the geo-political constructs of Amurika.

We Might Have Delayed the Decline. Maybe.

 The mid-terms were far closer than I expected. So there is some good news. It wasn't the Red Wave the GOP was hoping for; and the Liars and Accelerationists were - in some places - repudiated. But the Chief Liar (Trump) isn't deterred, apparently. That's bad news for all of us who care about democracy. The House seemingly flipped - that's bad news for justice re: the January 6 Committee and the work it has done. McCarthy is probably preparing the bonfire for that. I wonder if Moscow Mitch will show for it. He's probably being sullen and, no doubt, concocting new plans to subvert the Senate Majority. He'll likely succeed too - he has Manchin in his pocket, and that splits the Senate down the middle. I'd hate to be Joe Biden - his tough job just got tougher. And he doesn't have a firm base anyway. And I've seen/heard nothing from center or left that promises anything better.

As a country, we seem riven and sullen, if not down right self-destructive. If shared values are a basis for nation (a word I use advisedly), we don't have one. In the current political environment, we might all be using the same words, but definitions are all wonky. Not that they've ever been really clear - going back decades, I distinctly remember hearing Dan Quayle utter 'traditional family values' and choking on my beer. My mother glared at me when I said 'well, that's meaningless' (probably less politely). She was sure she understood what he meant. When I asked 'okay, can you see any politician or person saying they aren't for 'traditional family values?' Poor Mom, she got so tired of me parsing BS. I was so tired of people accepting platitudes and easy phrases without paying attention to the manipulation I saw. She just wanted a quiet, peaceful evening, and I was far more political and critical than any one she'd ever known. 

My education sharpened my critical skills - it's purpose, as far as I'm concerned. But this country doesn't trust intellectuals, or critical thinking. Never really has. I theorize that that attitude is part of our public education goals: I was taught to be curious, but not critical. Oddly, I think it was one reason I was the student I was. I did well on paper, got good grades, but was dismissed as anything more than mediocre. Told I wasn't college material. My rebellions were small, but from a distance, telling. Those are other stories, but the point for this piece is that college and university sharpened my critical thinking skills in ways that Traditional Power Structures have found less than desirable. And the current US political system  seems so dysfunctional and so transparently subverted that I am astonished it is still standing. 

The mid-terms aren't yet finalized, even a week after election day. The Democrats have the barest of majorities in the Senate, the House is still in the balance: Republicans have 217/218 they need to dominate there. McCarthy is sharpening his knives and gathering tinder. Locally, we've elected a developer's lackey to the Development Board, but managed to retain the contested Senate seat. McConnell's hand picked choice for that seat came far too close for comfort. 

And on the global level, human population has reached 8 billion. The earth is groaning, and natural balance (whatever that might be) seems dangerously out of balance for our species. And we'll likely take a huge chunk of life down with us when we go down. That's an ugly prospect.

Gee, what a happy thing. I'm going to go get my head out of doom & gloom and try to enjoy what looks to be a glorious fall day.

Election Day 2022: The Mid-Terms? Or The Penultimate Chapter?

 I'm worried. Really worried. The pundits are suggesting that the GOP will retake control of Congress, and that scares the sh*t out of me. The extremists that have taken control of the Grand Old Party and made it the Party of Fear and Hatred have an extremist agenda, one they've made no effort to conceal. So yeah, I'm worried. This could very well be the last election that even approaches what passes for a free and fair process in the US.

It's not like we don't have problems with the existing process, already tattered by gerrymandering, voter suppression and the like. The Republican assault on voting rights has been constant and multi-focused. And the Democrats haven't been nearly vocal or united enough to do anything to even slow them down. After packing the judiciary with conservative judges, the Rs have largely narrowed the path to redress. Which, for them, makes sense. As I said - it's not like they've been subtle about it. They've spent decades plotting a way to reduce the power of the average voter. It's been such a long process, I think most people have now accepted those past actions as 'normal' and 'logical' rather than the insidious poisoning of the entire political and governing process. 

We'll see the results - maybe - in this election. If the GOP manages to rebound and regrasp the legislative branch, they'll have what they need to control the judicial: the power to appoint. McConnell will dance in private and show his constipated smugness in public. Again. McCarthy... well, he's never been the brightest bulb in the pack, but he's eager to manipulate and bully on behalf of his own interests. We'll face another round of deeply flawed elections after the GOP rams through 'improvements' as they purge voter roles. In 2024, we'll be stuck again with Trump and his cronies, despite the mountains of evidence of corruption and sedition. And dear God, the fear-mongering and hateful conspiracy-loving weirdos will once again be waving their guns and bullying everyone. And millions will fade into the background - again - and come to accept this as 'normal'. 

The world is, according to the New York Times, worrying about democracy in the United States. I am too. Not just about democracy in this troubled country - but about the very survival of the country. We've allowed the entire place - politics, economy, culture, people - to be poisoned. We've done that, and allowed outsiders to do it too. 

Gods willing, we might just survive. Maybe.

Brand New Me

 Wow. It's been a while. And how my life has changed. Particularly in the past... well, since March 2020, which most will immediately associate with the COVID 19 pandemic that shut the world down for... a while.

I'm still living here in heaven, a tiny spot on the North Olympic Peninsula. The town itself has changed too, as towns do and must. I've had a nearly complete rotation of beloved pets too - two lost to cancer in 2017, another to advanced dementia in 2019. All those losses massive, painful, memorable. I still have three dogs and a cat - just two of the original 3/1 remain. Gracie died in January 2017, Tucker at the end of that summer. Gizzy joined the pack in late 2017, basically as a rescue hospice case with 'maybe 2 months' bur gave me 2 years of laughter and joy before sliding into dementia that did not let her sleep. I let her go in December 2019, in my arms and finally at peace. We think she was about 15. By then, Sadie had joined the pack as a senior rescue (about 8), and after Giz left, I waiting, searching for a rescue that would need us as much as we needed hir. That was Ohana, who came to us the Saturday before Covid shut things down on Monday,  mid-March 2020. I still miss all who have gone ahead, and remembering them brings tears and smiles. I've been so blessed with my pups.

I'm still doing my radio gig, which is both nice and  irritating. I was yanked out of my lovely time slot and dumped into Sunday afternoons and the sense of grievance has been strong enough to taint my time there ever since. I'd been really active there, giving time, effort, volunteering on other projects for them. The sense of having been done wrong was astonishing. But real enough for me to stop all those other things I was doing for them, and to limit my contributions to the single day of the week. Tellingly, nobody's noticed.

About November 2020, I was struggling with depression again and needed to get my meds re-assessed and tweaked. That began a frustratingly long process through the American mental health care insurance system. I'd call it a medical system, but it seems more structures by the insurance companies than medical anything. First I had to go to my medical doctor, who had to refer me to the behaviorial health people, who were the only ones who could give me the referral to the psychologist who could evaluate the meds and make recommendations. and because of the pandemic, each of those were over booked and over extended. and before BH could refer me on to the meds shrink, they were required to 'give' me x sessions of counseling. I told BH going in: "I've been in CBT therapy for more than 20 years." She nodded, and I swear it was like doing high school psych 001. To get to the shrink for meds eval, I had to do something like 6 sessions with BH. Each session was 30 minutes, and those were 2 weeks apart. That's 12 weeks of waiting, adn after that it was another month before I got to see the shrink. Those 12 weeks were me sliding further and further down the steep slope into depression, but totally required in order for the practice to be able to be paid. I finally got to the shrink, who asked me routine intake questions, starting with "have you ever been diagnosed?"  All of which was in my record, but he had to verify and ask again. At least a dozen of the questions were focused on suicidal ideation - I finally said "I know you have to ask those questions, and you're good at rephrasing it in so many ways, but the answer will always be NO." "Sorry," he said. "I have to ask for the insurance." At the beginning, I told him I'd been diagnosed as chronic depressive in 1995, and PTSD in 2015. An hour later, a hundred questions later, he revealed his own diagnosis: chronic depression and PTSD. So now we're end of January 2021, and he's agreed that my meds need to be re-assessed, and gives the required referral to a therapist. 

Somehow, by the weirdness of the universe and the luck of the cosmos, I landed on a name in a nearby town. Didn't really know what I was doing, or looking for (the clinic said I could pick my own, so it was basically me going through the internet list of providers in my area), just that I'd had CBT and it hadn't done much but maybe they'd be able to help me find the right person? Dear heavens, the goddesses were with me, because the person that responded was the exact right person for me.

So since late April 2021, I've been seeing Phoebe (not her real name). (I'll call her Feebs.) At our first meeting, we did the intake stuff and I realized I was really comfortable with her. I just skipped all the fencing around, flat out told her what I'd already done in the way of therapy, wasn't a novice and was rather desperate for help. Wide open honesty - it startled her that I was so a) desperate and b) willing to answer anything. At the end of the session, she said "I think you might be a good candidate for EMDR." Life changing words, those.

I'll do a post later about EMDR. But for now, I just want to say that it has changed my life in dramatic ways. Twenty plus years of CBT gave me lots of coping mechanisms, helped me get through hellish events and periods. Never touched the root causes of anything. Never went near 'em. Twenty plus sessions of EMDR have dramatically changed my life, detoxified and unlocked many/most of the base traumas that shaped the past 50 years of my life. 

Now, looking back at my retirement life, I see things that I didn't before. I've found new friendships, developed new relationships and withdrawn from others. I truly suffered through the years of Trump, and fear for the survival of my country and my planet. But the way I think and act now is entirely different from the way I did in March 2020. That big of a change that fast - and to be consciously aware of the change, and appreciative of it - AMAZING.

Early November

Well, this is just annoying. First, my blog - this one - seems to still be closed. Despite me opening it up over a month ago. Second, the password completely escaped me, so then I had to go through that rigamarole to get to something google would accept. Yeah, yeah, thank you for the security measures, but all these passwords... even my magic password keeper can't keep track of all of them! These, my friends, are the rantings of the extremely privileged, and I am all too aware of that.

I AM privileged. I live in a gorgeous place, in a lovely home, enjoy good health and a comfortable standard of living. I spend my hours the way I want to, be that in reading, watching tv (actually, very little of that), crafting, walking the dogs, exploring the area.

Exploring the area: oh yeah. Not nearly as much as I should, but since all my shoulds are on permanent hold, I explore as the whim takes me. For many years, 'as my Whimsey takes me' was my motto, borrowed from Peter Whimsey's family. Now it has real meaning - because of my privilege.

From a recent jaunt:

All these from the Miller Peninsula, about 3 miles from my house.

I went on the main road, which turned into dirt road, which meandered into a wide rutted path back into the woods. The further from the pavement I got, the less elaborate the houses. To the point of a wannabe yurt - no more than a couple of layers of canvas draped around a structure vaguely resembling a circle, all on a notably nice, new and sturdy platform. More than one ramshackle trailer house (from the looks of them, they've been there since they were new back in the 1960s). No people that I saw, just a lone dog patrolling the area. Well fed pup, so not abandoned, just keeping an eye on the neighborhood. Back on the main road, lots sell from $79K and homes are upwards of $500K. All lots remarkably vertical; waterfront, surrounded by trees - but yikes. I wouldn't want one of these places - nor to have to navigate one of those driveways... ever. And because of the terrain around here, the weather on that side of the bay is much wetter than over at my place. Very happy right where I am. But the exploring is fun.

Spent about an hour on the beach in the rain the other day - lovely. I stayed in my dry warm car, but watching the wind and the rain over the Straits was lovely too. So is curling up with the dogs/cat and reading. Ahhhhhh.

Timelessness

I love this life. It's really so cool; and apparently, really bad for writing impulses. I generally have no idea what day it is, and time means very little. My dogs tell me when it's nearing 5 PM - their dinner time - but that's pretty much the only trigger around here. There's no getting up for classes, no rushing around to fit everything in. It's quite lovely and feels indulgent.

Fall has arrived, with cooler days and nights, leaves turning. Out my back windows is a hill, covered with large trees. All summer it was simply shades of dark green. Now, the differences between colors is greater; a touch of gold near the top, some browns and oranges appearing. Every day is a new mosaic of colors. The new house on the closer rise has a drive way lined with young trees, newly planted. Two are nearly orange red; another is green-orange - and the rest are all still green. And they too change every day. We've had a very dry summer, even by rain shadow standards. We'll have four our five days of glorious sunny and clear weather, a gray cloudy day - and maybe even a light shower. Then more sunny clear days. Breezes keep temps cool - low 60s - and downright chilly after dark. This past week I saw frost on a roof top behind me, and G's allergies have pretty much died down after a very tough August for her.

I've made new friends, which is lovely. People up here are incredibly friendly and welcoming. It's a delightful change from the red-neck attitudes of Previous Place. And as noted above, happiness is apparently bad for writing, because I've written squat.

I have, however, found new outlets for my creativity. I'm still into glass, although I've not done any up here yet. I have been sucked into the paper craft vortex, and am happily making cards, scrapbooking and discovering the joys of Cricut, BigShot and that. These are all related - glass, paper, etc. - in that they allow me to design and execute designs, patterns, colors, textures - and the manual manipulation of materials brings great joy. Call it taking mixed media to new levels.

Finally having all my stuff unpacked and put away is delightful.

Finally, bookcases up and loaded!

and fun with Cricut!

Vinyl is addictive. It's very tempting to make my own decals for everything...

Weird Feeling: Happiness

It's more than content - it's happy. Happy. It hasn't been around in my life for most of experience. There've been moments, sure. Days long. But not more than that before the world came back crashing in, with the demands of daily life, the trials and tribulations. But long, extended periods of happy? Not really.

As a child, I survived the neglect of my father and the abuse of my brother. I took solace in the company and strength of my mother and her friends. I found love with her and with my family's pets - dogs, cats, peacocks, pheasants, smaller tropical exotic birds. In my teens, I was too shy for my own good, too afraid of my brother to ask friends over. Too many times so-called friends played the clique games of shunning other friends - "it's either us or her." Invariably, I chose the immediate her to anyone who could be so cruel as to exclude someone based on her skin color or body weight. By the time I was 16, that pattern was set, and I was one of the ignored in high school. Not a trouble maker, not an ace student, no cheerleadering or sports or anything. I just went to school, marched with the band, that was it.

Early adulthood was achieved in the Air Force: I earned a (tiny) paycheck, focused on doing my job and having a good time. And a good time was certainly there. But happy? I don't think I thought about it; I just wanted to contribute, be part of something larger. I learned not to be so shy, that I could do anything, that I was smart.

Marriage ended that. The first months were good, but then I made the mistake of letting my husband know that he had me. Once he knew that, our lives went from one of shared activities and friends to different paths. Neither of us should have married - we were far too young and stupid. But we had, and so we stuck together.  Which made my 20s and early 30s okay, but not happy. Certainly not happy. The best part of those 11 years was our - my - dog. That's where I got the love and support I needed. It was a hard daily reality that I was married but very alone and lonely.

Took a long time for me to realize that what he'd done to me was destroy my belief in myself and my abilities, intelligence and skills. I took what he did, and did what I'd learned as a child: I'd blamed myself for his actions. Not uncommon, but not happy making either.

What made me happy in those years was my darling dog and going to school. At school I could stretch my mind, challenge myself, and prove - with every A - that I was of value and had something not everybody had.

Divorce: not happy, but at least free. Alone, lonely - but no longer inside a toxic relationship, no longer beating myself with his neglect and abuse.

Grad school: oh wow, so not happy. Challenging, good for me, filled with new friends and new experiences? Absolutely. Happy? No.

Paris: oh wow, so not happy. Challenging, good for me, filled with new friends and new experiences? Absolutely. Happy? I was there 4 years, and no, they weren't happy. Pockets here and there of happy - the friends and experiences of being in a couple of communities (ex-pat, feminist, English teachers) brought happiness. I found myself there - shed the 'shoulds' of my teens-thirties - and created a me that I really liked. I wrote constantly - 70-100 pages of long-hand a day. I poured out my pain and fear and loneliness and joy and pleasures. Then France voted in a right-wing government, and they threw me out.

Back in the USA: oh, soooooo not happy. But a couple of years of real depression was finally diagnosed and I began treatment - and happy came back in dribs and drabs. Too much drama and trauma. Another round of grad school - drama, trauma - and some real pleasure in developing teaching and research skills. Lots of writing again. Finished the PhD. Got a tenure-track job. And from day one, was aware that 'my' university didn't really value what we were doing.

Family drama and trauma. Days of pleasure and joy countered by months of worry, conflict and pain. Friends helped me survive the re-entry of my brother into my life - the trauma of his idiocy and cruelty. Once again I found love and support with my animals and friends. The loss of my mom in 2009 was awful and still hurts, although it's not as raw. She didn't die until 2011, but by 2009 she'd moved deep into a dementia that kept her from knowing who I was, and that was ... hard.

The career: moments of brilliance and joy in teaching, reaching students and changing lives. Challenging myself every term to freshen and reinvent classes, approaches, assignments. Friends and animals provided the support and affection. Loneliness visited all too often, as did true happiness.

After 2011, I got a degree of financial stability I never expected. And that eliminated a source of constant pressure and worry - opened up some opportunities to explore the world in new ways. And honoring my mom, I took advantage of those opportunities. Happy became more possible more frequently.

Which came crashing down around my ears in 2014, when The Bitch set out to destroy me. I survived that, but my god, it was a hard hard year. She undermined my career at Unnamed University, and once again friends were my sustenance. I can't count the times I cried into the necks of my beloved animals, the days I spent hiding from caring friends who sought to assure me that anyone who knew me would understand that the charges against me were absurd. Happy made a short appearance during the summer of 2014 during some amazing trips - predictably away from my normal world.

The last year at UU was an extended period of cynicism and schadenfreude as I watched UU's poor planning and policies come home to roost. Knowing (but not sharing) that I was leaving at the end of the year made it easier to stand outside the disaster, to keep it at an emotional distance. Happy? Not hardly - but as the weeks went by I was able to feel less loss and more relief. 

Now? My last day at UU was graduation day, the first week of May. This is 3 months out - and in the past two months I've been happier for longer than I can ever remember. Retirement has meant no connections with UU. Moving to a beautiful place, with salt water and beaches close. I can be on these beaches within 5 minutes.

And I have mountains!

I don't have the BS that UU is dishing out (still). I don't have to listen to the right-wing rhetoric of Unnamed State, which seemed with each passing day, to weigh more and more heavily on me. Washington is saner. At least, I'm not as wired into the craziness of the place (yet and with luck, ever).  

My daily living is amazing. I'm happy all the time, not just now and then for short periods. This is amazing. Just. Flipping. Amazing. Imagine what I'll be like when I get my books unpacked!

NB: Happiness is not conducive to writing. Weird, eh?

Gazing in the non-mirror

I generally avoid mirrors. Don't like looking at my physical self, and oddly, what I see isn't what others see. Example: I took a selfie once, and everybody flinches when they see it. Now it's not a great picture - but it IS what I see when I look in the mirror. My friends are horrified at the picture, because it's not how they see my face. Odd but true. Anyway, that's not the point here.

My title here refers to my examination of my inner self since I moved. First, getting away from Unnamed University That Burned Me (hereafter, Hell Univ) lifted a psychological load that I was aware I was carrying, but hadn't realized how awful that load was. Second, retiring from Hell makes me re-examine my post-professional identity, and what elements will be within that and what I want to add. Third, my new place is... lovely. And while I love singing its praises (saw an eagle from my kitchen window this morning!), I also hesitate to do so. Particularly to my friends. So number three is inhibiting my communications with my dear friends.

My friends still in HellTown are still in HellTown, and some still work at Hell U. And they really don't like it much, but have no ability to get out. So when I crow about how lovely my new life is, I feel like I'm rubbing it in, making their situation harder to bear. They know I'm very happy, but I'm sure they are already tired of hearing it. And they are all gearing up for the new term, facing the next round of cuts, ill-will and nastiness. Others, not in HellTown, have continued their lives as they do, but again, I'm sure they are tired of me gloating as well.

So what do I do? Recount the trivial problems of my rather charmed present life? Of course I have problems, but the joys far outnumber them. And - crap, there's a damned beach not five minutes from my house! How can I possibly bitch about prices or the mountain of boxes that damn near fill my garage or having to wait for the painter - when these are the problems of a Lady of Leisure? Seriously!

One of the things I really want to do is get myself on a schedule of sorts. Where I put aside time every day - significant time - to write and research. The content/subject and process will then be something I can share with my friends, and it'll get me doing what I want to do. Since 90% of my friends are academics and scholars, this will help with the problem noted above.

I also want to get involved in the community, via the Master Gardeners and dog clubs. And volunteer at the wildlife refuge. Those things I need to wait until I've got the stuff done that requires a schedule that can worked around contractors etc.. Because once the painter (for example) has time for my project, he'll be here a week and I'll either have to get the dogs out all day during that week OR be here to help get the job done.  Either way, I'm not going to be able to go to events, meetings, classes, etc..

And then there's the glass. I really miss doing that, and can't even unpack that until... after the painter! Then I can order the IKEA bookcases and storage units and have a place to put the stuff I unpack! Same deal on the research - can't get to my books without unpacking them, and no place to put them until I get some bookcases....

Moved! In!

I am now officially in my new house in my new home town. Love it here. It's really friendly, the weather is delightful, my house is lovely and I am away from that hellhole that was Unnamed University. Who just fired 9 faculty - tenured, tenure-track, visiting, you name it. The best was that they offered severance packages to four staff members, hoping one or two would take it. All four took it! Leaving only one admin support working - who then apparently pissed off the acting dean, and got her ass fired. Nothing subdued about my delight in that, as that particular person had lorded her status over everybody, disregarded instructions and advice and tried to boss around her boss. Bad idea, but it was delightful knowing that she'd been ousted.

It's even more delightful to be 2000 miles away. Everything up here is very different from Unnamed City. It's a more liberal place (it wouldn't take much, as UC was right-wing). Completely different political, social, cultural vibe. Weather is radically different, as New Home Town is a sunny place surrounded by a rather rainy environment. I'm in what's called the Olympic Rain shadow - so it might be miserable and dreary in Seattle, but delightful up here. I'm five minutes from a quiet bay off the Strait of San Juan de Fuca, and maybe 10 from the straits. I grew up in Southern California, and remember my parents talking about how they'd come this close to buying a lot in La Jolla, which was one of my favorite places in the world. That was before it got all richie-rich and chic - when it was a quiet artist colony. Their deal had been about 1946-47 - they'd laugh ruefully, wishing they'd bought it so they could live near the sea. I knew, deep in my heart and soul, that living near the ocean was far out of my reach, but my ideal.

When I found this place last year, it was simply too good to be true. Close to the ocean? Affordable? Surely not. Quirky, cool and... decent weather? Impossible. And now.... now I live here. The town is hoping the place will grow by 50% in the next decade - I don't even want to tell you where it is, because I don't want the character of the place to change. I don't want those x people to come here, change things. Even though I am one of those they're working so hard to attract. Contradictory, I know, but I don't want to be priced out of this place. Or have my friends discover they can't afford to come here for retirement. (Yes, some are already planning on joining me!)

Unpacking is the biggest part of my day; I had about 250 boxes/pieces come off the moving van. I've emptied at least 10 boxes per day, and now have two rooms livable! Very proud of that; there's no way i can get it all done before Christmas, so I'm not gonna hurt myself doing it. I can't unpack the books (about 60 boxes, stacked in the garage) until I have bookcases, and I can't find any I like. And I can't think about buying those until I have a place to put them, which means all the painting has to be done before I buy/build the bookcases and then unload. And I can't paint until I get the non-book boxes out of the spaces that need painting! Et voila! My plan: unpack enough and get used to the space, pick the colors, paint, put it all back in place - then get the bookcases etc.. No time line. I don't have to schedule things yet. That will come. At the moment, I'm living each moment and stopping when I get tired or start hurting.

It's a whole new way of living: listening to what I want to do and doing it. Wow.

7 Days Until the Move

I am out of my campus office, except the packed boxes that the movers will pick up next Wednesday. Feels odd to be moving - physically - out of that life. The house is listed (nearly, we're waiting until I am really out of it), and I'm down to the final pre-final list:

oil change before the drive across country
multiple loads to Big Charity of non-moving items (ironing board, mismatched glasses & plastics, etc).
animals to kennel (Monday afternoon)
multiple loads of laundry (Monday night)
packers, all day Tuesday
loaders,  Wednesday morning (3-5 hours?)
early Thursday: load up the dogs & bird and head northwest

Our Alaska cruise was interesting: Love Boat line was not what I expected. Food mediocre, cabins good (huge closet area.... why?), far too many people. Far too many people. Most of the cruise programing was aimed at getting people to buy stuff: diamonds! tanzanite! sapphires! furs! buy! buy! buy! But the excursions were great: we saw lots of bald eagles, humpback whales, orca!!!, seal lions, harbor seals, fish eagles. Incredible scenery and landscapes. I had no idea. None. The mountains were just... right there, almost touchable in their proximity but enormous, untouchable.

The majesty of the landscapes, the scale of things, the millions of trees - I finally think I have an insight into why the people there hold the opinions they do: the landscapes that would be so familiar to them inspire a feeling of unlimited resources, that nothing man does could reduce the gifts of the mountains. They are wrong, but I can see why they think that. What somebody from other areas saw was the fragility of the place, the encroaching diseases/insects that are already evident on the landscape and flora. That they are the care-takers of a vanishing world; and they don't seem to give a damn. Everybody talked about killing things: wildlife, trees, etc.. I think they intended to show their rugged individualism and abilities. You can probably tell I wasn't impressed.

On return, I got re-certified as an open water (scuba) diver. It was fun, interesting - what we used to have to do ourselves is all done by computer now. So the class, other than emphasizing that air density increases at depth while volume decreases, was a casual chat fest. In water exercises brought back the loveliness of the sport: it's amazing to fly underwater. We spent 2 days at a lake in the eastern part of the state doing our open water stuff. That was like swimming in soup: the lake was 28 feet above normal, muddy as all get out. At the end, we got our certifications. Now we can plan a better place to dive. I'm thinking Hawaii or Baja.

First things first. The move.