Happy New Year!

I hardly know where to begin. 2021 was the hardest of my life. Professionally, I was beset by failure after failure after failure.

The seed of my version of Pandemic Fatigue was planted in April 2020, when Covid finally forced furlough from my long-held, well-loved position with Big Brothers Big Sisters. I couldn’t find work for five months, but it was time I was willing to take to find another position in which I felt like an asset to a good team.

I was a terrible assistant teacher.

I moved on to becoming a chef. While I was never very good, I did demystify the kitchen enough to release fear of feeding myself. Perhaps it sounds strange, but my aversion to meal prep exceeded disdain for cooking. It was pathological. Now I’m unafraid to try new recipes and, more importantly, I don’t deflate when a dish doesn’t work out.

When my beloved Chef Mama retired, however, cracks from the top down, that I’d already begun to see, widened and made my kitchen crew less than skeleton. It was a pile of desiccated ash. In an emergency, I worked 15 hours straight, three days in a row. My seniors had to eat! Immediately, the Executive Director expected me to work around the clock, never once working an extra hour himself to cover the shortfall.

I took a pay cut to move to the front desk, where I would interact with my dear residents face to face. While I loved that, I grew increasingly aware of just how poorly the entire operation was managed. It wasn’t. The party line was “We’re working on it.” I looked back in maintenance logs to learn that some issues had been unresolved for years! Serious issues! The building was falling apart. Manager after manager quit during the six months I worked there.

Residents’ concerns were never addressed. Some paid $4000 a month! For a lie! “We’re working on it,” I repeated, knowing that no one in a position to effect change would do so.

It was an interesting juxtaposition between the employees and the Executive Director. The worse his leadership was, the harder we worked to enrich their lives. The Lifestyle & Leisure Manager was imaginative and creative in bringing talent and entertainment to the residents. I often danced with them when a particular group got them up and out of their seats. Everyone working the front desk dropped all the but the essentials just to visit with someone who stopped by wanting to chat. It was lovely. I witnessed and participated in Love In Action every day.

Nonetheless, I grew more and more angry that the Executive Director should let the building fall into such disrepair and leave us to face an increasingly stressed and agitated population of elderly people, who hadn’t the wherewithal to move. All for the lowest wage I’d earned in… I don’t know how long.

I had perceived that my front desk supervisor was “one of us.” She certainly acted buddy buddy. In fact, sometimes I went to work hoping I wouldn’t see her, because she talked FOREVER about video games about elves and trolls and quests and magic. Comradery among colleagues is lovely, but it interfered with my work and kept her from her own much more important work. She picked up most of the Executive Director’s slack, and actually kept things running, if barely.

Nevertheless, I had a skill she didn’t: Brightening someone’s day. Certain of my residents clamored to visit with me, some at great length, and I lived for it. When someone approached the desk, I’d turn to them, expecting my supervisor to pause her narrative, as one does when there’s work to be done, but she kept talking – about wizardry! – until they walked away. Look. I may not do much of anything for my pittance, but my residents look forward to me. They were my job! It was a privilege to bring joy to people needing a vibrant, enthusiastic friend. I loved them.

It was annoying, certainly, but bearable. She craved a sense of belonging, clearly, and who doesn’t? She crossed the line, however, when she complained [more than once] about our Director. I understood, of course, but it put me in a tricky position.

In the end, Covid finally penetrated our Senior Living Center. I was the one to take the initial report. It was Saturday, so no management was on property. I had my resident quarantine in her apartment, and called the Executive Director personally. He promised to come in and administer a rapid results test. Hours later, he sauntered in – At last! – and went straight to his office without a word to me. I called his office, which he didn’t answer, so I went to his office and asked again, “What will we do?”

He promised, again, that he would administer the test.

Half an hour later, he walked through my lobby, looking back at me before exiting the building, and said, “I don’t have time to administer the test. Look in the Emergency Contacts and call her son. Tell him they’ll have to arrange their own test through Salt Lake County on Monday.”


I looked for her Emergency Contact sheet and found none (!!!). I called the Executive Director, again, who passed it off to my supervisor, who didn’t answer. I finally had to call this little old lady in her home and tell her myself that she was S.O.L. til Monday. Predictably, she began to panic. “Why can’t I have the test now? What does my son need to do?” I got his number from her and called, but she was left to agonize for days, when ten minutes of the Director’s time would have answered the question. I was furious that he should leave her to anguish, and I’d been the face of his indifference. I know it felt like I didn’t care. It’s not like I could tell her what actually happened. As far as she knew, I wouldn’t help during a global pandemic. She was scared!

Furthermore, she was a bit naughty. All weekend, she snuck out of her apartment in search of neighbors to hang out with in common areas. When we ushered her back to quarantine, she’d feign innocence. “I don’t have a negative test….”

Well, she would have, that day, if our Head had honored his word and done his job, and we ended up with a small spread, including a death. Yes, he was very old, but he died. I was so angry! He might have had Covid anyway, even if a timely result had kept our Patient Zero in her apartment over the weekend, but my Director’s refusal to give even ten minutes of his time to our exposure made me feel like he’d killed him. I took the initial report, and he walked out the door. I complained to a colleague, who complained to my supervisor, who reprimanded me for denigrating the Director. I owned it. I had. It was inappropriate work behavior, but now I was offended. How could she chastise me without any self-awareness or shame? I was her confidante for warlocks, witches, and bitching about our boss. I didn’t consider her behavior permission for my own. I was wrong, but she was ten times more so and unabashed to scold me, in spite of gross hypocrisy, particularly galling in view of her position over me. It’s objectionable that my team leader should set the very example she later admonished me for. I could have had that place shut down for countless violations. But where would my seniors go?

I quit. I said simply that, despite the love I bore my colleagues and residents, I could no longer look past issues with the building and leadership. I offered to give a proper two weeks notice, but I was leaving for Chicago the next day anyway with Alan. I could work for two weeks after that if my supervisor would like, but I would be taking the rest of the day off. “I do apologize, but I’m not keen to finish today’s shift.”

I later learned that the Executive Director was fired shortly after I quit, but I’m banned from even entering the building! This supervisor lied to my face when I asked if I could continue with my Astrology parties, which had grown in popularity each month. Why should the residents be denied a fun activity? Why should they pay for her small mind?

I shared tearful good-byes that day with a few residents who saw me leaving. A colleague called later, asking permission to give my number to a resident who’d missed the chance to say farewell, and she called me at home to thank me! I loved my people so much.

On my way out, I received invitations to visit many residents personally. I promised, and looked forward to it! I live half a mile down the street. I would love to hang out with my new senior friends, and come over for a cafeteria dinner every now and then.

NOPE. Persona non grata. I miss them so much.

From there, I went on to work in a decorative paper company. We’re talking hand-made papers from all over the world, with inclusions of tropical flowers or reeking of perfumed, natural dyes. It was so beautiful! It was more money, and it spoke to my strengths. I am exact. Things go how they go and that’s how I do them. I find great satisfaction in doing things right. I half ass nothing and struggle with perfectionism. Finally! A job where that pays off! And it’s so pretty!

Y’all. I was fired! I CAN’T CUT PAPER! I lost a paper cutting job!

It’s not like any failure I’ve known. It’s terrifying. What the hell is happening? It’s not a talent or a technical skill or a type of intelligence. It’s a remedial task. And I couldn’t do it! Scarier still, I had no idea! I was completely unaware. I felt like I was doing all of my obsessive excellence checks – I was doing them – but my own quality control mechanism failed.

The owner had to sit me down and show me sheet after sheet of unsellable artisan paper. The sheer volume of random inconsistencies and gross errors was horrifying, mystifying, humiliating. It’s bad enough that I did it; worse that I didn’t catch it! It rattles my entire sense of self and reality. For all my seeking the elusive calling, I’ve learned that I quite enjoy mundane tasks. I love To Do Lists. I live for minutiae. I’ve been called anal retentive.

“I’m not,” I reply. “I’m precise.” This was in my wheelhouse!

This wasn’t failure to excel or meet my own impossible standards. It was failure to perform simple tasks with competence. This was ineptitude. I can’t trust the ground I walk on. I’m losing my mind. How did this slip past me? How is that I CAN’T CUT PAPER?!?!!

I fuckin’ lost my job! … Paper!… I…I…I.. I don’t understand. I’m terrified. It’s like not being able to tie my shoes. It’s 8.5×11! That big line and that big line, and cut. I couldn’t do it!

Luckily, I had therapy the next day. I don’t think I’ve cried that hard that long in a session before, the whole hour. He recommended I see a neurologist, which I will, but I don’t think they’re going to find anything, and I don’t think menopause can explain this.

I describe Fibro fog as thinking through quicksand. It’s definitely frustrating for someone who’s always had a quick, reliable mind. Though I joke that I’m smart enough to know how stupid I am, I’ve been very grateful for my intelligence.

Menopause has made the ever-worsening mental morass more vast. Or at least I’ve blamed menopause, but now I think I’m just declining, period. Ha! Period. What I wouldn’t give for one more. I want my rosy, plumpy youth hormones back.


This is beyond even that. This is loss of function. I CAN’T CUT PAPER!

I’m flummoxed. Oh god, I’m embarrassed! Wtf? I’m scared.

Five days after losing the pretty paper job, I was hired in specialty cheese at the supermarket, so I start the New Year in dangerous dairy. (Cheese is a better friend than chocolate.) That’ll help the Menopausal Middle. I can’t cut paper but, by god, I can cut the cheese, haha!

It helps to soften the blow of being sacked, not to worry about a money gap, but the black hole of confusion remains. It’s discombobulating. It’s so frightening.

This is first time I’ve encountered failure that I can’t find, appreciate, and be better for one of two things: The learning or the love. There was no point to this. There is no silver lining to this colossal reversal. I don’t know what to do with that. I need it to mean something or teach me something, and it just doesn’t. And I certainly don’t love myself or anyone more for the experience of it. It’s been absolutely devastating, unlike anything I’ve known.


So, that’s a lot of pressure to take into what I meant to make of 2022: MY BEST YEAR!

It’s just begun. I will do it. I have a job. I have the strength to weather hardship. I’m ready for progress and consistency, and I’ll see it. I know I’ll see pain, too, because life is life, and I guess I’m living it. I confess I haven’t committed to life any more than I’ve committed to a job, a relationship, anything. I’ve lived with an escape hatch since I left home.

Next year, I’m 50. Soon, my Penny will pass and I’ll check off my sole bucket list item: Move to Bolivia and master Spanish fluency.

2022 is for getting serious about my health, so I can feel powerful, confident, and clear-for-the-love-of-god-minded. I have a sleep study on Jan. 12th. I see the Ear Nose Throat specialist Jan. 18th. I have yet to hear back from the neurologist, but I’ll keep you posted on what I learn. Cholesterol and diabetes screenings tomorrow, and 40 pounds to lose from my highest weight ever. You’ll never see the Before pics but I’ll share the Brags, er, Afters.

2022 is on! Oh, my beloved 222, don’t let me down!

Hail, Scorpius!

Last month kicked my ass. I got my first cold since we started wearing masks, and it knocked me into a deep fatigue that became a serious, lasting depression. I was out of commission for a couple of weeks, feeling really lousy and really sorry for myself.

I’m hoping that Scorpio’s passion and determination will translate into getting back on track with my life and health goals. The scorpion loves genuine effort, and I start the sign with a personal trainer! This Taurus is out of shape and terrified.

I never got Covid19, but I definitely gained it. Wish me luck!

Balance or Blind Justice in Libra

Libra’s scales are well-known to represent balance, but the reason for that association is interesting to me: During the change of season from Summer to Fall, light and dark are equal. We lean daily further into night, and rest.

Equinox is a time to go within. For my part, this week has been a time of enormous resistance, like I know what’s good for me but instead of doing it – the setting things in order work of Autumn – I’ve let my home and personal life sink into disarray.

Complete chaos. It’s a mess in here.

Alan and I have been together for long enough that we’ve met ourselves in the context of us. We’ve begun to establish a pattern with our individual habits in relationship with one another. And it hasn’t been working.

We had our first fight on Sunday. It was awful, maybe because it wasn’t familiar. There was none of the screaming and “gone too far” of my history, and we left in an embrace.

But it was awful.

I called the next day. We both felt… well, awful. We talked again about the disconnect of the night before, when suddenly it became unmistakably clear: I’m not unsure anymore about continuing to try; We’re not a match. I knew it.

I ended things. We both cried. I enjoyed so much about him and us. I was falling in love. We just don’t work together when it’s hard.

I was unsatisfied by a phone break up. It seemed cold and unworthy of what we did build and do well, but we have consistent communication breakdowns and we’ve failed to find a way through them together. Too soon. In short order, the inability to reach resolution would fester and potentially trigger each of our worst. I want better for myself, and for him. It matters to me to love each other well.

And we have. It’s love, too, to know when is when. Not waffling on my resolve, I called the next day and asked to see him. I simply wanted to hug and kiss him good-bye.

I’ve slept over every night this week!

This is absurd. We’re having a laugh, but it’s not harmless and my resolve is weakening. We don’t work, and all I feel is tension and resistance.

I’m glad I’m not going to E11 this weekend. It seems I’m yet unwilling to respect my own boundaries, and require a few days of absence to take the choice from me.

So balance yourself in Libra’s sun, friends. There’s still time to do this right (comma, Self).

Breaking up with love is so much harder than torching the fucking bridge.

The Maiden Virgo

I like to decorate the party hall according to the zodiac theme each month, but drew a complete blank on The Virgin. How does an experienced middle-ager harken back to maidenhood? I tease. Counterintuitively, I found it harder to personify a person, rather than iconic traits of an animal, such as the crab or lion. I had a hard time identifying with Virgo.

I phoned in my presentation. No one knew, but I don’t like halfass-ing things. I feel false, and it’s reduced to busy work involving memorization. I excel at memorization and enjoy task-related things (Taurus), but I prefer to find meaning, however “woo” that may be. We humans are meaning-making creatures, and astrology is more fun, in my opinion, when you accept it as a possibility and allow yourself to play inside the ideas on offer.

So last month’s presentation was surface-level but it’s meaningful, nonetheless, to provide enrichment, generate energy, and build community with the residents I love.

I also admit to being totally side-tracked by my new love affair, and being whisked away on my very first all-expenses paid romantic trip. Alan flew us to Chicago and whadya know? We travel together like champs! It was… oh! It was wonderful.

The opposite of Virginal in Virgo, haha! He’s been such a surprise. Yes, the sex is fun and new, but I just like him. It’s his brain and humor I can’t get enough of.

“I’ve always wanted my very own redhead,” Alan reported.

That’s one I haven’t heard, and I love it. It took him six weeks to tell me. I love that more.

The Palmer House
Faces of Chicago / Millennium Park
Monet’s Water Lilies (!!!) / Art Institute of Chicago

Leo Burns

Leo Party / July 20, 2021

Our astrological fire sign has been, well, on fire, and I’m itching to get out of the West. Salt Lake had the worst air quality in the world for spate of days just over a week ago. We have smoke from Burning California every summer, but this year was the worst. It won’t be the last time that’s pronounced. It will always be worse.

July was Planet Earth’s hottest month in recorded history. My beloved West will only experience ever-worsening drought, and fire fire fire. My heart hurts.

Other than that, you may have noticed that I disappeared briefly. My life has been rather small, for a decent amount of time. One by one over five years, my three best girlfriends all moved away; My social life went with them. I was old enough then to switch my focus from partying 24/7 to finally getting my Life Toolkit on lock.

Covid was devastating for the global community, but timely for me. I’d gone within. I remained there, to demystify the Wtf. I’ve experienced enormous change over the last five years, and was just feeling as though I might be ready to step off that rotating fulcrum from youth into my second act. Covid came like an invitation further into the cave, to examine the progress I’ve made, commit to it, believe in it.

“Stay in for a minute longer,” Pandemic summoned. “Really look at the changes you’ve made. Picture what you create with your energy and your choices. Rise up to your full capacity and claim it! It belongs to you, and it’s up to you.”

With the start of this blog, I chose a tagline: “Life has lived me. Now I flip that.” It’s time to reclaim my life… kinda for the first time. Living intentionally is different from what I’ve known and done.

I’ve felt all along like loving Galen this second time around was “love with training wheels.” I know he’s not my forever person. Because of this, I was able to accept him exactly as he is, not viewing his difference as lacking, not meeting my needs. It’s okay to want more from a partnership, but Galen wasn’t that person. I didn’t ask that of him. As a result, I was free to love him completely. And I love him. I’m so grateful for our final love affair.

Galen gave me the experience of myself as a loving person. And a great romp in the hay. 😉 We always had the best chemistry. I didn’t want a fuck buddy. I wanted to love him.

It’s strange to feel and to say, but it’s really something to be loved by me! That’s been my biggest fear in therapy. What if? What if? The answer is, you just do it… and learn as you go. Intimacy is the biggest trigger of that deep pain, vulnerability, fear and, more importantly, self-preservation. Love is cPTSD, period, and you can’t love armor up.

So! Kam’s 50th Birthday was a fully-vaccinated festival in Boulder, UT. I’ve been living for it. At the last minute, my ride dropped out and I invited Galen. It would have been the first time we’ve seen each other since April of last year, but he had a river trip planned. I found a ride with a single party-goer in need of a room, and a new friendship was born.

I’m so grateful for friendship that grew over time with this inspiring woman. Happy 50th, Kam. ❤

On Day One, I’m sitting alone at brunch, chatting with old friends and new, when in walks some hippie-lookin’ dude in a Tshirt that commands conversation:

We haven’t stopped talking.

I haven’t been more comfortable or natural in my life. And completely taken by surprise. I had no idea when I laughed out loud that, come dawn, I’d be kissing him by the fire.

I practically missed the party. It was all Alan. It was dreamy. It was heady and thrilling, and effortless. He likes me, a lot, and I’m in deep smit.

He’s whisking me away in two weeks on a romantic weekend getaway to Chicago! I had no idea when he asked that he meant to pay for everything! Never have I permitted myself to be wined, dined, and spoiled. It was too fraught. I’m not worth it. What happens when the bottom falls out? Is this weaponry for when we end horribly?

For the first time in my life, I’m not attached to what happens tomorrow. I love what’s happening now. I get to care for someone, for real. Training wheels off!

Last night I made him dinner. I’ve resisted and resented expectations of domesticity all my life. Sad, that my natural expression of nurture was stifled so early, but I’ve unearthed it and I’ma pour it on everyone able to receive and reciprocate!

Happy Summer!

Another Zodiac presentation under Orion’s belt (I had to) and into a blazing summer of non-stop Go! I’ve suspected for years that once my life kicked into gear (once I chose to kick it), the switch in pace from indolent to industrious would be instant, and dizzying. It is.

I’ve returned to my drum class after five years. It’s so nice to be back! This week, Quinn (our instructor) posted a long remembrance on social media of Mamady Keita, who’s sudden passing this week hit communities hard. Communities all over the world. I never studied with him directly, but through my teachers everything I’ve learned is from and through him. Mabiba Baegne, who brought dance to the West with the first African ballet company, joined our class with Fred, Salt Lake’s first djembe instructor decades ago, to honor Mamady with Quinn and with us.

The discussion between the three and with those in class who knew Mamady personally were inspiring. Quinn said something that sticks out. “He took African rhythms and translated them into a structure that Western minds can understand.” It’s true! How do I wrap my brain around a 9/8 time signature, plus syncopation! Mamady Keita broke it down. “Like this.”

He modified rhythms from different tribes onto instruments not originally used for those songs, and crafted a universal catalog that he taught around the world, in the first voluntary diaspora of African music, dance, and culture. I’m humbled because I can touch my lineage. I’m a terrible technician and will never be great, but I’ll never stop. It’s not about that. It’s about learning, joy, expression, participation and, above all, community. I feel a part of something. My nascent understanding of these rhythms, movements, and practices traces back to Africa through two people. That’s life-altering! That’s dizzying. I’m stunned. I’m honored.

It reminds me of a story featured in my small town Idaho newspaper when I was young. My friend’s father, who arranged sacred choral music into duets that his daughter and I sang in Wards* all over town, was a renowned musician and composer. He could trace his musical lineage to Bach, which was illustrated in a chart on the front page. It was cool.

It’s humbling when we remember the ties that bind. I’m amazed. It’s so nice to be back.

*neighborhood divisions of the Mormon church

Gemini PowerPoint

My presentation went so well! It was so FUN! I’m ever-blessed by this new job, and the many opportunities it’s offered. I look forward to what more it has to teach me.

My presentation was so well received, the Lifestyle & Leisure Director gave me a permanent spot on the calendar and decided to extend it to include a birthday party for all the residents in the sign I’ll introduce each month.

Fun, fun, fun!

So Many Changes!

Visit my new blog. It’s a mad travelogue. A Broad Abroad

I volunteered at work to give zodiac presentations to the residents. I’ve always wanted to become well-versed in the stars, but I’ve no self-discipline. If I impose deadlines on myself, I have no choice but to accomplish the goals I set. It’s so fun, and I finally get to spend quality time with my residents!

I love learning to cook, but I miss the opportunity to visit with the people I serve. I want to know them all by name. I want to make them laugh. I want to bring a smile. I want to present new ideas, a breath of fresh air. I want to learn together and enjoy their company!

My PowerPoint is ready to go, and I’m working with the Leisure & Lifestyle Director to get it on the calendar… before the end of Gemini!

During my research, I came across a great woman on YouTube. In her overview of the cosmos in Gemini, she told her viewers to expect change. Later in the video, she focused that shift to “somewhere around the 22nd.”

And then my manager retired! My beloved Chef Mama! I’m so happy for her. She worked too hard, too much. But I’m so sad for me. I started crying immediately. I’ve cried more than once. I’m misty-eyed now.

I LOVE KELLY. She healed so much in me. She’s pure love. She’s warm and gracious and always laughing. She was a mother hen. I love her. I miss her already.

Awaiting her approaching retirement date this week, she suddenly broke her foot and, poof! She’s gone! Work has been hell without her. Still, this idea of a replacement manager has been nebulous and vague, not terribly menacing yet. Change is challenging for all of us, but anathema to Taurus.

Because there was no one hired yet and no known First Day, I could push the anxiety to a place that didn’t register, but then on Saturday I was informed that the new manager will begin Tuesday. No sooner was he was a real person with a real Day One did I jump on the hamster wheel of my mind and start to worry. Really worry. No one can take her place. How will I get by without her? I was turning sour, fast! I caught myself at it and redirected my thoughts: Give him a chance. Give yourself a chance. I’m new yet, but I have the beginning tools of a baby culinary imagination. I can do this.

The moment I recovered my mood, I recognized the date. It was the 22nd!

Come on now! It’s in the stars, man. I wanted Astrology to be just for fun, but I’m fully turning into that weird, witchy woman.

Okay. If that’s where this track is headed, let’s power up this train! Coo Coo!

May 21 – June 20

Hahahappy Hangover To Me!

Rich’s birthday is the day before mine, so we’ve combined them for many years. Molly hosts a gathering every year, except for 2020, and we were ready to make up for it! I always felt so lucky, because we celebrate on his actual day, but it’s my party, too, and in the morning I get to wake up to a whole ‘nother birthday, all to myself!

This year I realized, “Wait… Rich gets the party on his birthday. I just wake up with a hangover on mine.” I’ve felt for so long that the joke’s on me. The thing I like about life now is that I feel like I’m in on it, enjoying the punch line, not just the butt of it.

It was wonderful.

Another rainy April birthday for two Taurus bulls!
Thierry and Margaux led a sing-along, in French!
Happy Hangover to me! In yestermakeup. With THIS CAT! >*..*<

Work is busy and challenging. I continue to mark meaningful progress. Catastrophinc defeats, too, haha! I feel like this job is the link in the chain to Adulting 101 for me. I’m not nearly as afraid as I once was. I don’t know that I’ll ever be a relaxed person, but I’m not derailed by failure. Setbacks happen, and always will. Onward and upward.

They surprised me with cake! Apparently, there’s an employee birthday budget and everyone gets treated on their day, but I didn’t know that. I didn’t expect a thing. Of course I was delighted. I think I might have clapped and exclaimed, and then moved on to enjoy dessert, if they hadn’t started singing. In my whole life, my coworkers have never sung to me. There was this split second that I’m standing there looking at each of them, giving me this moment, and thinking, “How extraordinary. How truly humbling.” You know it’s coming at a party, but work? Some were shy; Most felt awkward. It was beautifully out of tune and personal. Thank you.

This is the team I’ve been looking for. We have everyone from high schoolers on their first job to cooks who’ve been in the business for decades. We serve a population at the end of their lives, and we support and enjoy each other. If you had told me that I’d be working in a restaurant in midlife, I’d have thought myself a failure but, like I said, joke’s on me.

It’s a great surprise, to be so happy with where I’m at, when all my life I’ve lived in terror of where I was going and what it meant about me.

That’s the difference between Christie Then and Now. I’m in this. Good and bad continues to come and go. I feel lucky in life. I’m more happy than not, and I’m equipped to see myself through difficulty. I’m more basic than I could accept as a desperate child. I like it.

Happy birthday to me.

^ worth posting again

I’m healing, finally. Right on time. I always was a late bloomer, the perfect Spring baby. And if half the world should wish to throw petals at my feet to celebrate my birth, I mean… Who am I to refuse?

“You were born! You were born!”

Can you believe I spent my youth wishing I hadn’t been?! Life really is a mysterious gift.


Happy Spring!

Yesterday, it rained all day and today it snowed! I love Spring snow, because you can reasonably expect it to be in the 50s or 60s in a couple of days, and it’s the last chance to accumulate inches in our mountains. We desperately need it this year.

Happy World Down Syndrome Day! Click HERE to donate to scholarships for adults with Down Syndrome who wish to continue their education beyond high school.

I’m loving my new job. I worked entirely on my own today, for the first time. It got a little hairy – pretty rough, really – but I didn’t burn the building down and I’m getting better every day. My boss is precisely what I needed and didn’t get at my last job. My training was thorough, and I feel fully supported. All my needs are met.

I love the chance to learn something new. I love the opportunities it opens up for me, particularly feeding large groups at festivals as a way to support the community and participate. I love finally demystifying the kitchen!

Cooking for an army doesn’t help me cook for one, but it does widen my culinary imagination. Mainly, this job mitigates fear that’s held me back from cooking for myself.

I look forward to continued improvement at work. I look forward to returning to EMDR, haha! (My therapist and I worked the same days, with the last job, and I haven’t had my head shrunk in six months.) I LOOK FORWARD TO GREEN AND WARM, AND FLOWERS AND BLOSSOMING TREES!

I love Spring!