Things I’ve appreciated today: cough drops, tissues, my thrift store rain jacket.

Level of happiness about my appreciations: pretty low, actually.

I bought tissues at Costco a couple of months ago and joked about how nice it was going to be to have a lifetime supply of tissues stashed in the storage shed. Today I took my 5th box out of the shed. Yeah, maybe not a lifetime’s worth after all. It feels a little like the universe is laughing at me for my over-confidence. Not that I believe in a malicious universe, but if I did, it would be laughing.

On the plane to SFO, I chatted with the woman sitting next to me. She’d just lost her live-in job (and therefore her housing) and was feeling a little shell-shocked, I think. She needed to talk. She was on her way to visit a son in Florida, to babysit for the grandkids while he and his wife vacationed, and was debating whether she should tell him what had happened. Along the way, she asked me if I had kids. I was so tempted to lie. I didn’t, because it felt like that malicious universe — the one I don’t believe in — would jump on any such statement and make it come true in some awful way. Like denying R’s existence would make him stop existing. That’s obviously ridiculous, and I know it’s ridiculous: even if he’s dead (no reason to believe he is, no reason to believe he’s not), his existence shaped my life. I am who I am because I chose to become his mother. No casual words to a stranger will change that. Fortunately, I no longer cry every time I mention him. I simply answered the question and immediately turned it back to her and we spent the rest of the flight talking about her five kids, fifteen grandkids, and first great-grand.

Random thing I want to remember: I had a little time to kill in Florida, between lunch with my friend Lynda and my stepmom’s birthday party, so I did a Japanese lesson in the car before starting to drive. While I was driving I was thinking about how little Japanese I know, even after 200+ days of tiny lessons. Then I thought, well, I do know the word for beach. Umi, that’s how you say beach in Japanese. And also, I know how to say that I’m going somewhere — ni iki masu. So I can say that I’m going to the beach — umi ni iki masu. And I know how to say tomorrow, too. Ashita umi ni iki masu — tomorrow, I’m going to the beach. So I guess maybe I’m learning more than I think I am. Tiny lessons leading to tiny triumphs. The next day I really did go to the beach, so it was even useful. Well, or it would have been if anyone I knew spoke or cared about speaking Japanese, ha.

Hey, good news: tomorrow is my last day of antibiotics and I am not going to be so afraid of them in the future. My stomach has had moments of uncertainty but I’ve been drinking my probiotic beverages every day and so far that’s worked to prevent too much misery. Less good news: as far as I can tell the antibiotics haven’t done a thing. One can’t have everything, I suppose.

Meanwhile, the prescription cough drops were/are completely useless as far as I can tell. In my not-entirely-scientific but extremely extensive experimentation, Ricola really are the best cough drops. Turns out, though, only the Honey Herb Ricola are guaranteed to be gluten-free, so it’s entirely possible that my cough drops were causing my cough. I honestly don’t believe in a malicious universe, though. Really. It’s just ironic. Or it would be if it were funny.

Time to go write a book! I’ve gotten a little stuck on Ceres, so yesterday I pulled out Cici. Beginnings are so easy; middles are so hard. I wonder if that’s a life truth, not just a writing truth?

Yesterday, I coughed so hard I threw up.

It was a bizarrely nostalgic experience. When I was pregnant, I spent the last few months throwing up every day, multiple times a day. I’m not quite sure when it started — end of October, I think — but I caught a cold, and the baby pushing up on my diaphragm plus an intense cough equalled vomiting. Lots and lots of vomiting. It turned into a weird self-perpetuating cycle where the coughing made me vomit and the vomiting made me cough and so it just kept going. For weeks. Months, actually.

I threw up so much and so often that I started strategizing about the best foods to eat before throwing up; if I knew it was coming, I’d quickly swallow some mint ice cream, which is honestly the very best thing to vomit. If you do it right, it’s still cool and creamy on your throat and the mintiness makes the taste bearable. Mmm, mint flavored vomit, so infinitely much better than tomato or orange juice flavored vomit.

I also knew all the best places to vomit on the streets I had to routinely walk. I was waddling along, of course, carrying a beachball in my belly, so I couldn’t move very fast. I’d pause at specific sewer grates to see if I needed to use them before continuing on. Worst place to vomit: at an ATM. I’m still sorry about that for the people who were waiting in line behind me. Second-worst place: on my plate at Christmas dinner. Fortunately for me, my sister saw it coming, and so pulled my plate of food away and slid her empty plate before me. I threw up on the empty plate, and she then replaced it with my unfinished meal. I kept eating. I wasn’t nauseous, I just threw up a lot.

Ah, nostalgia. LOL. It was weird to feel wistful about what was fundamentally an awful life experience, but I guess time puts a hazy glow on bad memories if good things come out of them eventually.

As a result of yesterday’s unpleasantness, however, I did go to the doctor this morning. My oxygen level is fine, my lungs are clear, and I’m not running a fever, so I’m more or less okay. He prescribed some antibiotics, given that I’ve been coughing for about a month now, but also asked if I was using a new detergent. Ans: why, yes. (Along with a few other allergy-related questions.) Do I think my new detergent is what’s causing insane allergies? Not really, no, but I’m probably going to switch back to my old detergent for a while. And reluctantly take the antibiotics. I’ve had such horrible luck with antibiotics in my life that I am very dubious, but I am also extremely tired of feeling awful.

Despite the coughing, I had a lovely weekend. It was a quick trip to Florida for special events and family time. It felt much too short, but also perfect. Now that I’m home again, though, I have two goals: write a book and stop coughing. Easier said than done, but I am sure I will manage to do both eventually. But not today. Today my goal is to unpack, to eat something healthy, and to appreciate Sophie, having already very efficiently gone to the doctor, picked up antibiotics and now written a blog post. Go, me!

Saturday started out rainy, but we went to the beach anyway, just in time for a couple hours of that intense blue sky. We saw dolphins, too, and loads of pelicans. No sharks, though, even though the beach is known as the shark attack capital of the world. (According to some sources, 10% of the world’s shark attacks happen at New Smyrna Beach. Not really the statistic you want to be thinking about while you’re swimming!)

A troll showed up on the blog last week which was, as always, an odd experience. I started to respond to its comment, and then paused, reread the comment, and clicked the Spam button instead. Good-bye, troll.

But I was thinking about it afterwards, in the way that one does, and it occurred to me that what I felt was actually pity for the poor troll. That troll, whoever they are, is a person who is so wounded, so in pain, that they seek out opportunities to be unkind. Not just take the opportunities that show up in life — the moment when another driver does something stupid and a little road rage makes you want to give them the finger, or that impatience at a long line that lets you be abrupt to the cashier instead of polite — but to seek out moments in which to be mean. To actually spend your time and energy to go out of your way to leave a rude comment on a blog, to be unkind to another human being. I can’t imagine what it feels like to live with that kind of negativity. Or actually, I can imagine it and it just looks awful. Like living with the flu or in chronic pain, only a spiritual, emotional pain. If you are hateful, then you are full of hate, and then you have to live with that feeling. Ugh, how awful that would be.

I never hated anyone before finding out that a friend (now, obviously, ex-friend) was enough in touch with my son to know that he was alive and well and reading my blog, and didn’t care enough to share that information with me. As far as I had any way of knowing, he could have come down with COVID in the early days of the pandemic and died. He might have been hospitalized or in jail or living on the street, homeless or hungry or suffering. I was living with that pain and uncertainty and fear every day, and she… well, she wasn’t. I still hate her fucking guts. I will never forgive her. But I don’t live with that on a daily basis. Every once in a while, I touch the thought. It’s like poking a bruise. Yep, still hurts, still hate her fucking guts. But that’s really it for the negativity I live with. A little, teeny-tiny part of my being still tied to that feeling, and a bigger chunk of my being that lives with the grief of loss and estrangement, and then the majority of my being… well, pretty happy. Content and easy-going and kind and really quite sorry for people whose hearts are nasty. That troll has to live with itself. What a fitting punishment for a troll.

Speaking of COVID, though, I never mentioned on the blog that I came back from Oregon and my allergies began kicking my butt. I had a couple days of an intensely bad headache, and I finally decided that it was a sinus headache, and upped my allergy drugs. The headache went away but the congestion moved into my chest and I developed just a phenomenal allergic cough. It got so bad that I started taking Benadryl — my own nuclear weapon for allergies — and then, of course, the side effects of Benadryl left me exhausted and sleepy and feeling like my thoughts had to work their way through molasses to reach my mouth or fingers.

Really, it was all so miserable that I started thinking maybe I can’t live in Arcata during spring. Then Suzanne came home from her trip, I started feeling better, she started feeling sick, and she took a COVID test. Positive! I took one, too, and mine was negative, but I’m pretty sure that was because I was recovered, not because I’d been right about allergies. Today is the first day in almost three weeks where I took Sophie for a walk and didn’t feel exhausted at half a mile. I’ll be taking another test before I get on a plane to Florida on Wednesday, but I expect it’ll be fine. It says something, though, that headache + cough + general malaise did not = maybe COVID? to me. It crossed my mind, sure, but not in a way that inspired me to actually take the test. Oops.

Despite her case of COVID, Suzanne decided about ten days ago that it was time to get rid of potential skunk habitats in the backyard, aka piles of wood. Every morning since, she’s lit a fire in the backyard fire pit a little after sunrise and we’ve had our morning coffee fireside. Such an excellent morning routine. A couple times we skewered sausages and ate grilled sausage for breakfast and this morning we baked potatoes in the coals, but mostly we just had coffee and played Spelling Bee and chatted and rewarded dogs for sitting quietly. A fire is a great way to start the day, especially, I suppose, if what you’re looking for is some nice mellow, peaceful energy with which to begin your day. It wasn’t great for inspiration — I didn’t rush away from the fire every day to add another 2000 words to my WIP — but I enjoyed it. All the skunk habitat is gone now, though, so our fires are over for a while.

Our roses are just beginning, though. Eons ago, back in those early pandemic days, I said I wanted roses by the tiny house wall. Sadly, the ones we tried to grow from cuttings didn’t make it. In 2021 and 2022, we were too busy with puppies to try again. This year, however, Suzanne planted rose bushes along the wall back in January and they have been thriving. Much to my delight, the first flowers are now blooming. Yay, roses!

I realized this morning that I am not blogging, because every time I think about blogging, I think that Carol is not around to read my posts anymore and it makes me sad, so instead of writing, I go do something else, like playing solitaire or eating candy. She, of all people, would shake her head at this behavior, I think. She understood that the only day we have is the day we’re in and that we should appreciate it. I don’t know whether she also knew that the only way through sad is to let yourself be there, but I know that, so it’s time I started acting like it.

I’m sad that Carol will not read this post.

And that said, I’m really happy that it is a beautiful day in Arcata today. Suzanne was gone through most of the month of May, off adventuring in Europe, but she had a really delightful house-sitter, with whom I got to exchange the morning greeting every day of, “There might be sun today. It could happen,” and the evening farewell every night of, “Well, maybe tomorrow.” So much fog. So cold. So gray and dreary. Sigh.

This is the weather that Suzanne told me about eons ago, but it is not the weather that I’ve ever had in Arcata. It’s the weather that made me rule out ever living in Arcata, in fact! Or, I should say, “was” the weather, because now we’ve had three days of sunshine and it’s been glorious. Does the weather relate to the fact that I’ve been making lots of little adventure plans instead of sticking to my commitment to write, write, write? Yep, absolutely. The only day we have is the day we’re in and even though I know I need to write, write, write, I am actually going to do a bunch of other fun things instead. Or, I should say, as well, because I’m not giving up my write, write, write commitment, I’m just not going to not enjoy my life while I’m doing it. Double negative adds up to a positive, so yes, I’m going to enjoy my life. And write!

Little plans: an overnight camping trip near a river, so the dogs can play; a day trip to Santa Rosa, so that dogs and I can have fun while S sees her eye doctor; an incredibly swift four-day trip to FL to celebrate occasions with family; a three-day camping adventure in Oregon to escape from fireworks on the 4th of July. S’s making bigger and even more exciting plans for farther out in the future, too, but I’m holding off on those, because I do need to write. Or rather, I do need to earn some money.

Am I making smart choices when it comes to writing –> making money? Absolutely not! Not really a surprise, I guess. But that’s not just about not doing the work, it’s about the choice of projects I’m working on. I’m now 20K words into a cozy science-fiction romance which has actually stopped being cozy and become more of a science-fiction mystery adventure. The practical thing to do from a writing point of view is always to write romance, and also to always write series romance, and… well… yeah. I keep thinking I want to be practical, but I guess it’s just not my strong suit. I quite like this story, though, and am having fun with it, so I won’t bother regretting my choices for now. (If you want to read it as I write it, I’m posting first draft chapters to the Rescuing Ceres category on my 1000words at a time blog.)

Proof of how beautiful the day is:

Sophie, playing in a field of buttercups.

Sophie and I finished our dog training class yesterday, with a field trip to a park where she got to play on some dog agility equipment. I promptly signed up for the next class in the series, because I think she really liked the class overall and I know she loved the field trip. Her big success on the field trip, IMO, was staying in a crate without complaint for the portions of the event where the dogs needed to be crated. It took me the third time of putting her in the crate to realize that the proper command for the request is, “Load up,” which is what we say to the dogs when we want them to get into the car. She completely understands “load up” as meaning, “enter this enclosed space and wait patiently for something to happen,” and when I told her to “load up” with the crate, she went straight in, turned around and waited, exactly as one would hope. For her first time at using a crate, I was super pleased with how well she did.

She also did a pretty great job on jumps, although she knocked the bar over a couple times, and a great job with the tunnel and the balance beam, and an exceptionally great job with all the optimism equipment, ie boxes of noisy things to jump into and out of, plus wobbly things to jump and balance on. If I had to pick a favorite for her… well, actually, her favorites were all the ones where I was crouching at the end waiting for her to knock me over and give me kisses. Those were her favorites. She was not a super big fan of any of the ones where I needed to use the lead to show her where to go, ie running around cones, running in circles around a center point.

Here’s an obvious thing I learned about dog training from this class: it’s really about training the person, not the dog. Some of the skills we haven’t worked on, like sitting for a heel, are skills we should work on, just because they’re gateway skills to other things that are more fun, like jumping. But all of it is mostly me needing to figure out how to tell her what I want, because she’s both smart and willing. It makes me think of Anne Sullivan, trying to teach Helen Keller to communicate.

I did think, though, during the field trip, that if I was a dog trainer (never going to happen) and/or had my own school of dog training (never going to happen), all of my teaching would revolve around trust and relationship-building. During the jumps, I let Sophie off-leash, because, as the instructor said, “She’s not going to go far from you.” She didn’t, although she did hop over to visit another dog for a few seconds and then returned promptly when called. With the tunnel, the other instructor said, “She’s a real mama’s girl, if you’re at the far end, she’ll go through.” Yep, she did without hesitation. We don’t have the skills that obedience or agility competitions measure, but it’s such a huge advantage to have the foundation of trust that we have.

Anyway, the class was fun for both of us. I’m not sure I could sum up what we learned, but we enjoyed ourselves.

Somehow my quick little blog post, just to break the non-blogging cycle, has gotten kinda long. And I’ve got words to write on Rescuing Ceres, so I think I’m going to get back to it. TTYL!