It's great to wake up to good news on a Monday morning...

Awoooooooooooooo!

Peace

So, I changed my LiveJournal theme, as you can see, to one of the new green themes they built. I was having fun building my own themes on top of the one I had before, but I decided I want to be green for a while, reflecting some new things in my life and some new goals I'm setting.

It's summer, first of all, and for the first time in a long time, Colorado is more green than brown. We've had a lot of rain (odd rain for our state though... it's felt more midwestern than Rocky Mountain) and the plants we thought might suffer from the long cold we had in spring have held out and burst forth. Green seems the color of that moment, certainly.

Green is for the Iranian people, too, who are trying to determine their destiny apart from what their leaders might tell them they want. Simply the act of wearing green has gotten professional soccer players banned from the game for life in their country. It's gotten 17-year-old students arrested and beaten. It has gotten people killed. In solidarity with them, green is the color of that moment, too.

When a plant greens, puts forth buds, and flowers (or spores, or cones, or whatever it happens to do for itself to reproduce), it is signaling hope for a future. It's working toward becoming something new. For my part? With the continued downward spiral I've had at work, and that I'm watching my coworkers go through, I am greening in that way, myself. I'm tired of this world, and these petty politics, and this exhausting battle for executive/managerial supremacy that makes life miserable for the people who work under it. I'm done.

So I'm growing up--and out. Looking for new life, working on new paths toward my ever present goals, I'm going to start working with a voice teacher, go to more auditions, and get the roles that pay and that will move me steadily toward the career I've always really wanted. I'm not even going to say yet that it might not work, because I need to focus on making it happen. I'm going to flower forth and bear fruit and make life a little greener.

In the meantime, I will keep working on my other crafts--writing and knitting and gardening and whatever keeps my brain alive and processing new things every day. To that end, tonight will be my first time attending the Raven Dancers meeting. I hope to learn to jingle dance or perhaps traditional dance, as Dave is learning to drum and sing. And perhaps I can learn beading as well, to make my own moccasins, to make my own deerskin dress... whatever. I am looking forward to immersion in new learning. And I hope to gain a wider view, a deeper understanding, and... well, more connection outside myself. Truly, a greening of the soul.

So, here's to green. May it always grow.

Peace

Tra la!

The avatar is one of the two peaks of Wahatoya, the Breasts of the Earth. It's appropriate because of the way my May Day has been going. :)

Well, this morning, perhaps not so much. We drove up to Longmont for brunch with Dave's family for his mom's birthday. Nice simple Colorado small town diner brunch. A nice way to start the day.

Then I came home, and Dave took off for a rehearsal for a performance his big choir has tomorrow. One I won't be attending because I will be at my own rehearsal tomorrow (and rehearsals for Princess Ida are going pretty well...). Did a little springish cleaning, walked the poochy under moody gray May skies... it was very nice.

But Dave rushed home this afternoon, because there was a craft fair and food at the Christian Indian Center in Denver, and we have heard that they make the best fry bread in town. We had to give it a try.

We both had mutton stew with corn and squash and a big piece of fry bread. The stew was wonderful! The steamed corn was still just a little chewy, and with the bone still in the mutton, it was a very flavorful stew! We sat for a while talking with a woman named Cecily who had also heard about the food and dropped by for an Indian taco. As we chatted, she told us she had looked at the jewelry booths (just two small booths) and saw an interesting type of jewelry. Dave and I went and looked, and talked to the seller, and Cecily was right... it's really neat. The seller said it's something she had to get from the artist because it was so unique. I had to agree with the seller, and Dave said it was too good a deal to pass up, so we bought it...



 

It's not just a nice set. I'm looking at it a bit as my "May Day reminder"--a symbol of a new beginning, hope for the coming summer and for rich, fruitful growth. I intend to wear it often, and to wear red often with it.

Tonight, I'll be doing two things to mark the day... neither of which is unique to the day, but both of which will invoke a spiritual, creative and productive aspect.

I'm going to play my Crow Mother flute. It's been a while since I've done so regularly, since my shoulder was hurting. But tonight I have to. It's needed, not only because I should be playing it every day for grounding and practice and connection and all, but because as we were leaving the CIC tonight, there was a crow perched on the top spire of the little church, calling out to us. It just fits. What a nice, meaningful moment.

I'll also be continuing work on the blanket, which is now taking shape.

You can see the actual color better here, with the flash...



But in this one, which I took without the flash, you can see the pattern a little better...



I have a long way to go, but at this point it's exciting to see the pattern of the first set of "vases" beginning to emerge. I'm working on knitting the whole blanket in once piece, to symbolize the unity it represents. But it's going to be interesting to see how well that goes as it continues getting bigger...

Here's a fun bit to leave you with, though... Of course, as I was taking the pictures, Sasha became very excited by the trailing yarn. And when I went to put it away, she couldn't contain herself. But she gave up in mid-reach:



Happy blessed May Day! Enjoy the rest of the wonderful weekend, and best for a lovely month of May!

Peace

Well, the big rush of Thanksgiving is mostly past... but we're making our own turkey today, with as many trimmings as I can handle... heh.

Still, I wanted to express some thanks. It's been a rough year, offering some major challenges that have done some great good and brought some great sorrow... and I want to acknowledge gratitude for all of it.

I'm thankful that I still have a job. No matter what else happens, right now we can still afford food, shelter, and other necessities where we are. For all those who don't have these blessings, I send out my goodwooshes that the gifts of life and health and spirit be given them, too.

I'm thankful for my other pursuits, too. For theater, for music, for knitting and writing and all those things that I have to keep me busy, necessary, inspired... and that give me meaning.

I'm grateful for Sasha, this sweet kitty who gives such love and such fun and brings such a bright light to this house. I look forward to her feeling at peace again, and having the full reign of the house, and sleeping with both of us, together, happy and safe and loved.

I offer sincere thanks for the experience of having Sa'rits in our lives. It's been very hard, but it has taught us a lot. And it's given us a chance to save a life and become someone else's angels. Next week, after Wednesday, we're surrendering her to the local husky rescue for a better chance at finding the right place to be. She deserves it. And I feel honored to have served as a part of the Providence that will make sure she gets it. If that is what our love can give her, all the sadness and struggle and trouble has been worth it.

I'm thankful, even in my grief, for the lives of Tika and Basha and the fact that they are always with us, inhabiting our house and our hearts and our memories. Having them in our lives was one of the greatest blessings we could have encountered.

I'm so grateful for my love and his patience and his talent and his presence in my life. Everything he is in my life represents growth, love... seeking that grail.

I'm thankful to be home in the place of my birth, near most of my family, where we can spend our time with loved ones young and old, have relationships with our parents that go beyond the usual. It's, again, something many people don't have--either proximity or good relations with their families. And I recognize that and am humbled that I am so lucky to get along not only with my own family, but also with my in-laws. It's amazing.

My gratitude extends to the lives of family that have passed on... grandparents, ancestors. My heritage is a gift not to be taken lightly. For all those who came before, I am grateful.

And for my friends, of course, I am deeply thankful. Those I know only by words on a screen but who have always been there for me since the first day we met (and I will always be there for you)... those I connect with mostly only by phone but who share a devotion that makes every visit seem as if not a day has passed since the last time we saw one another... and those who are nearby, with whom I share daily laughter, tears, conversation, spirit, and love.

The relationships we make, keep, and, yes, even lose, are true life's blood. I'm blessed with loved ones from all areas of life, with a sense of purpose and Good Work, and with the knowledge that life is a great gift in itself. Thank you, Most Blessed One, Great Mystery--and thank you, all those beloved who have been or are now in my life.

In turn, what a great gift is the snow coming down outside my window. For every blessed flake, a prayer of gratitude.

Peace

...Three hours in ER
Two pretty stitches
And some Unasyn in an IV...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday night, I came home with an intention to spend the evening with my cat. We decided we'd get the dog into the computer room area, move the cat out into the living room, and still keep them separated while Sasha had room to run around and I could play with her and enjoy her company, since I hadn't been able to otherwise.

We did not foresee that, because of last week's altercation, Sasha didn't want to be out where she thought the dog was. Once we had everyone moved, with doors between them, Dave told Sa'rits to sit and stay and started to come out to get his dinner plate.

That's when Sasha decided to run back to her "safe space"--which is where Sa'rits was.

She got as far as the space under the desk before Sa'rits ran for her. Dave grabbed the dog by the collar while she tried to grab the cat. Sasha hissed and spit, and I reached under the desk to try to get Sasha to freedom. Of course, she was panicked, and saw me only as another attacker. When I finally did get her out from under the desk and into the living room, she launched herself--off of my hand--toward the window, onto the marble table where she cowered in fear.

That's when I looked down at my hand and saw the gash. A little more than an inch long, it gaped every time I spread my ring and pinky fingers.

Dave closed the door and kept Sa'rits sequestered. Sasha moved to the top of the piano and didn't want comfort--at least, not from me. And I went to wash away the blood (*shriek*).

After about 1/2 to 1 hour, having washed with soap in the meantime (*more shriek*), I decided (with Dave's help) that it would be a good idea to head to the ER and get my wound looked at. It was rather deep, and I wanted to be sure it wouldn't need stitches. So I left the cat on the piano, the dog and Dave in the closed off north side of the house, and drove myself to the nearest hospital--which also happens to be the hospital where I was born.

This was at about 9 p.m., or so...

The ER at Porter was pretty quiet. I got in right away and sat down to wait for a doctor. When he came in, he almost seemed like he had just stopped by to say hello. Pleasant looking and with a hushed voice, he asked me to show him the wound. He commented on the redness around it, but said little else before leaving again, saying he would return.

A few moments later, a physician assistant, young and energetic, came in to see it. Her first comment was that, normally, cat wounds are not stitched because of the risk of infection. She said they'd clean it up and I'd just have to keep an eye on it.

Later, after more waiting, she came back to say that after consulting with the doctor, they had decided to give me an antibiotic IV, clean the scratch, put in stitches, and set my hand in a splint to limit motion and, as a result, hopefully prevent infection. I was asked several times if I was sure it was a scratch and not a bite. I assured them that the presence of my cat's hind claws on my hand as she dashed away, not biting me, pretty well assured me of that.

Another long wait brought the male nurse, pleasant and talkative, who plugged in the IV, telling me that I would be keeping it in until the next day and hooking up the antibiotic pouch, a seemingly quiet drug called Unasyn. I sat for about 20 minutes absorbing the liquid, and again waited. Slowly, while listening to the strain in the voice of a nurse next door as she tried to calm a drunk patient with heart issues who badly needed to bathe, I also received a numbing injection into the scratch (*third shriek*), a thorough cleaning of the wound, and two little stitches, loosely holding the very edges of the gash together. Oh, and I shouldn't forget the tetanus shot, either. At around midnight, I was released with instructions to return and a prescription for an oral antibiotic.

I hadn't really thought of cat scratch fever, but a member of my jazz band reminded me about it Saturday morning as I took my antibiotic at rehearsal, the uncomfortable IV needle prodding me if I moved too quickly. Really, that's not an illness anyone wants to deal with. So, after our brief little performance at a Model T club meeting at our local transportation museum, I headed back to the hospital.

I got another IV of Unasyn before (thank heavens) the needle and tubing were at last removed, instructions to remove the splint on Sunday and keep the wound open and clean, and advice to return in 7 days to remove the stitches. I can go to my own doctor for that, too. Or maybe I can get my doctor friend to do it; I don't know. In any case, I'm sitting here with my pinky and ring fingers taped together, looking at a stitched up gash in my hand and thinking how difficult it can be to type with two fingers taped together, as my traumatized cat sleeps next to me in the only room in the house she will stay in now (except at night, when she has come out to quietly and unobtrusively join me on the couch while the dog sleeps two closed doors, a stairway, and a crate away).

Sasha is frightened, and I blame myself for that. She hisses at the questioning sniffing of the dog behind the door, and runs under a small bookshelf when the dog is on the porch returning from a walk or other journey. The cat is subdued, and I grieve that my actions and the presence of this other animal who is only doing what is in its nature have done this to her. The dog is confused, but, of course, no worse for the wear.

I, too, am subdued. I am hurt in more ways than the scratch of my panicked cat on my hand. The scar is likely biggest on my poor kitty's heart. And that makes mine ache.

We have a trainer coming over Tuesday morning, and we still hold out some hope that this situation can work out for the best for all of us and still keep us together, too. But I fear that might not come to pass...

Peace?

 

I updated the Yahoo avatar to be smiling again--it was frowning for a long time. It looks much as I do today, but I had to not have the black coat. A little color, eh?

I'm feeling better and boosting my morale through so many new means... I want to be hopeful and connected and my old, excited, energetic, mad-about-life self again. So, I'm back!

It's amazing being the observer of my last year. Not that I think emotional and physical collapse is good, but I think it's where I needed to be for a little while to realize how I need to move forward. Everything is everything.

So how are you all today?

Peace

PS: Nevertheless, I should add one brief moment to remember Laz, who can be found in the stream under the Rainbow Bridge as of some time between yesterday and this morning. May you swim happily in the waters of the far country, dear beautiful one. We were lucky to have shared your unusually long life for the years that we did...

I had a little bit of a cry last night, again. I was showing Tika, yet again, that Basha's room is open and she can go in. She's been avoiding it... starting toward it and then stopping before getting into the doorway, probably mostly out of habit. But it's soon to be my sunroom/work room for my computer and yoga and.... really just my room to be in, and I want Tika to feel okay coming in there with me. So we went in last night and spent a little time in there together. At first, Tika just pushed her head into my chest and let me pet her, gently. After a little while, she looked up and sniffed around some. I think she was sad, but still quite accepting. She's the rock, really. I looked up and saw Basha's scratching board, and for some reason the tears came. Only briefly, but there nevertheless. Quick and cleansing.

I've seen Basha around the house quite a bit, flashing from the corner of my eye, of course, and heard her jumping from the furniture. She's present, even though she's not. That's helping make things a little easier. I know she's with us, as Judith's poem said. It's nice to know, and rather than berating myself for thinking I see her when I know she's not there, I'm treasuring the sight and it makes me smile...

I had another chiro adjustment this morning, along with the myotherapy (basically that means injury specific deep-tissue massage--far more intense than regular massage). And the stiffness and pain that had taken over my shoulder over the weekend is greatly diminished again, with a corresponding increase in flexibility and comfort. On the other hand, boy, do I need a lot of myo. My back is all tension. All of it. The therapist kept commenting on it through the whole 10 minutes (Friday, it will likely be 15 minutes). And where my shoulder hurts? A knot so big that if she even put the slightest pressure on it, it screamed, all three times she worked it! But the pain of the myo is such good pain because I know what healing it will bring. Still, I'm looking forward to getting home to my ice pack and to all the water I will be gulping down today (already had my first 1.5 liters... another 1.5 to go, at least). Interestingly, the myotherapist told me that the specific-number-of-ounces theory of how much water to drink is inaccurate. Applying the logic that we are all different from each other physically (doh!), her recommendation is that a person should drink half their body weight in ounces every day. So, since I weigh 140 (bah), I should try to drink at least 70 ounces of water every day. Basically, if I drink 2 liters, I'm almost there. I usually try to drink 1.5 liters at work, and then whatever else I drink at home. Now that I've had myo, I'm going to drink 3 liters today--the recommended plus enough to really flush the toxins from my system. That's a lot of water...

In other healthy news, today is a non-milk day. No dairy at all, today. Tomorrow is a yoga day. I'm starting out by interspersing yoga days in between chiro days, until my shoulder is better. Once the chiro days are fewer and further between, the yoga days will increase. And Tika will get an evening walk every night when I get home from work, unless it's choir day for all of us. Dave and I will continue to have breakfast together (missed it this morning, though, *sniff*), and we will start having evening down time before bed, with books and tea. And meal portions will also be a work in progress. More veggies, smaller portions of meat... slowly, we'll get our health in line, both physically and psychically. Hopefully that will help all of us have a better year. And with that, the spiritual will slowly return to center as well.

That's worth the effort.

Peace

We're putting Basha on a steroid treatment to see if that will help the edema, which the vet suspects is the result of a really messed up lymphatic system (oddly, she--the one who originally saw Basha after the emergency vet's diagnosis--says the blood protein levels are normal, not low; I'm confused, but I'm listening to her, since the added protein in Basha's diet didn't help and things actually seem to be getting worse). I'll probably try to put her back on the Rutin again, too, since that helps people with lymphoedema. Her face is so poofed up it's swelling her eyes shut. But on the good side, she ate a fair bit last night. And she slept on the bed with us, too. And this morning she clambered up on the bed again, though with a fair bit of trouble, and meowed at us for being in her space.

The real news is that there is a possibility it could be lymphatic cancer--lymphosarcoma or lymphoma (there's a very minor distinction between the two, or so I've read) or the like. We're going to see if the steroid helps at all to bring down the swelling before we go in for a biopsy of the lymphatic tissue. I've decided that attempting to alleviate the discomfort without excessive stress is the best start for my kitty.

Trying not to count eggs that are still in the chickens or cross bridges that are not remotely in my field of vision. Living for today...

Peace