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Well, everything else being thankfully ruled out, it appears that Kelsea does have a kidney stone.  She was trooper enough to go to school yesterday, but is sleeping in today.  Sleep and liquid, that’s what she needs.  Hopefully, it will pass soon.  At least in my experience, the passing was the easiest part.  And I felt better immediately.

It has been amazingly, freakishly, frustratingly windy here the last few days.  It makes me not want to go outside.  And so, I’m not. I’m watching Rick Steves traipsing through the Mediterranean on public television, experiencing pangs of envy, and wondering if they’ let ME take pictures inside the Mosque of St. Sophia.

The good thing is that it has inspired me to work some more on the Different BVI travel guide.  I will start a pitch letter next week.

It’s amazing how fast money flows out when no money is flowing in.

The Interstate Mullet Toss is this weekend and I am missing it.  If you’re not familiar with this event, the highlight is a competition in which individuals toss a one-pound dead mullet from within a 10-foot circle on a Perdido Key beach in Alabama, across the state line into Florida.  I am determined to go next year.

Gark.  It’s nearing noon.  Maybe it’s time to take a shower and get dressed.  Or maybe it’s time for tequila.

It’s really amusing to watch the dog try to attack the vacuum cleaner attachments.

One of my dearest friends in the world wrote to tell me her cat passed away this week.  She and I had just had a wonderful two-hour talk last weekend.  Talking to her makes me feel like I’m 17 again.  I ache for her.  Losing Tug and JT is as vivid today as it was the day I had to have them put down.  I wasn’t there when my cat of 20 years died of natural causes.  She knew it was coming and said goodbye to me before I left.  I don’t know if I could have borne it.  But of course I could.  One can bear anything if it provides some modicum of comfort to a beloved soul.  RIP, Guido, and peace to you, my dear friend.

There is an abundance of magic in this world.

I hate Rick Steves.  Why can’t I be Rick Steves?

I have been considering trying silk painting.  One of my favorite possessions is a circle of silk with a seascape of Anegada painted on it.  It was made by a British woman who used to come camp on the beach and paint.  It’s a lovely idea and a lovely piece.

To complement the Mom-Peeves, I am adding Mom-Moments to the mix.  You Moms know what I’m talking about…those moments when your kid is being so wonderful that you want to freeze the feeling in time.  They can be rare, especially as your kid gets into the teenage years, and especially depending on the character of your kid.

Kelsea and I have both been sick for the last while – she was worse on Thursday, I was worse yesterday.  This morning, she was well enough to go to school, but I sure didn’t feel like getting up and taking her there.  Still, you do what you have to do, right?  Due to her various social commitments, we hadn’t had a lot of time together this weekend.  I am always glad to let her go have a good time, but I know she misses me when she hasn’t seen much of me. 

So this morning, when she was curled in front of the heater on the bathroom floor, having hauled her little carcass out of bed, I came in to see her and she patted the floor next to her and offered to share her heater with me.  We sat for a few minutes, talking, and she asked if she could put her head in my lap.  And so she did.  We sat there, her head in my lap, me stroking her long blonde hair, just happy, just quiet, just being together.  We both wished we could just stay like that all day.

I remembered times when I was all grown-up and I rested my head in my Mother’s lap, and she stroked my hair.  I remember the last time I did that, about two months before she died.  I treasure that memory, just as I will treasure the memory of this morning.  I hope it’s something that will come back to Kelsea some day in the future when she has a little girl, and the cycle of love continues.

The reality of divorce takes a while to sink in.  It hits at odd times.  Like today.  Kelsea is sick and I am taking her to the doctor this afternoon for her annual appointment, which is kind of a happy (?) coincidence.  She was supposed to spend tonight with me, but since she’s sick, I thought I’d give her the option of where to stay.  She wants to be with me, but she said she’d rather stay “home”.  Yes, it is her home.  My cottage is not her home.  It’s where she stays with me.  And whenever you’re sick, you want to be home. She’s always been a Daddy’s Girl when she’s sick – I remember when she was little-little, she would snuggle with him for eight solid hours when she was sick – she just didn’t want me.

I regret more and more not making Pat move out.  At the time, since I wanted out of the marriage, it didn’t seem right to do so.  And it would not have been easy had I stayed and he left, because he would not have had a place set up nicely for Kelsea, nor would he have taken the dogs, and so I’d have to arrange for dog-sitting, etc.   He’d have had even less responsibility and he’d have been angrier and he’d have taken more things from the house than I did.  But I am resentful at him for letting my home go to seed.  And I am still paying half the mortgage.  I miss my garden, now that I might have time to have one again.

On the other hand, I needed a fresh start.  I am about to make another one, working for myself, but I get more freaked out daily about not being able to do so.  So freaked out that today, I was looking at jobs in New York and DC with a couple of companies that I’m pretty sure would hire me right away.  I might be able to telecommute with the DC job, so I’ll have to think about that. But working for someone else is not what I want to do!! Still, you do what you have to do, right?

I was talking to a friend last night about wanting to take a few weeks off, when I have my severance going, and just get things back together.  Strategize for my own work, spring clean and de-clutter the house, get myself into a comfortable routine of exercise and meditation and creative work.  The mere idea of doing so makes me feel guilty.  It’s me —  ME —  the one who ALWAYS works, and always has.  It sounds so terribly slack.  But it’s not like I’m saying I want to sit at home and eat bon-bons (not on the Atkins Diet) and watch TV for a few weeks (though a couple of days like that sounds appealing).  And I still have my half-time job, which I’ll be getting extra hours from in March.  This is where the work ethic of which I wrote a week ago starts looking more obsessive than positive.

My first unmarried Valentine’s Day in many years has come and gone.  I had a nice weekend and didn’t really think about it.  Pat said that it was now just another Hallmark day for him, and he was glad he got to spend it with Kelsea. 

Yes, life is feeling a little overwhelming these days.

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