Just walked around the block in a light drizzle — the snow from last night gone. There are at least five Seders happening on my street right now. If I’d stayed inside, I wouldn’t have known. This, for some reason, makes me sad. Ken is watching Antiques Roadshow. We had leftovers for dinner. Can you believe it’s been less than 100 days?
Considering publishing chapters here of various forays into fiction that may never go on to being part of a novel.
Then again, why?
Also, hesitating to publish recent rants. Is it true what they’re saying about phones being grabbed and searched at airports? We go to Boulder in a few weeks. If I bring my cane will I look less like a sharp-tongued critic of the regime? The slippery slope is greased with rancid oil. Whoops!
Speaking of disgusting, those are not ancho chilies. They’re desiccated, frozen bananas and they could date back ten years. Today we tackled a few shelves of the upstairs freezer. It’s nice when things are so clearly meant for the garbage!
We intended to go to the local dump’s paper shredding hours this morning but were too late. So instead I threw out archives related to my sister directly into recycling. Tax returns, applications for subsidized housing, student debt relief correspondence, SSDI advocacy letters, ECOB application to cover COBRA payments until MassHealth kicked in, correspondence with utilities, landlords, banks. On and on and on. The weight of it all. But what to say that hasn’t been said? At least I could comfortably bundle up the piles and toss them without worry. There’s no identity left to steal.
“the slippery slope is greased with rancid oil” these are the best words i have read anywhere, anywhere, by anyone in this who blur of time……
the best.
the whole post, such an honest loving sadness
Who is this please? Appreciate your comments.
Me, grace
I thought so but nice to confirm!
I’ll be traveling to Canada in a few weeks … sure wish I’d renewed my Canadian passport. I hate what the last one hundred days have done to the relationship between the US and Canada .. I was born in Canada and only because when Bush won did I decide I needed the right to vote. I don’t regret it but like so many people here and around the world I’m just really sad. 😔 I wish my mom were still alive … I’d like to know if being a young woman living in Germany when Hitler came to power did she feel this same sadness.
On a Happy note I am really happy that you’re getting around as much as you are. Your surgery was not that long ago.
Can you renew your Canadian passport sometime in the future? The Canada-animosity is such an unforced error and won’t be easily fixed.
No identity to steal. A title to contemplate.
We’re having a sister reunion to celebrate our oldest sister’s 80th. The youngest now a US citizen just got her Canadian passport renewed.. she’s actually moving to Windsor Ontario when the school year ends along with her daughter and grandson. They currently live together in Greer SC and decided days after the election to make the move. Her daughter born in the US to a Canadian at the time was also able to get a Canadian passport. Anyway I honestly thought that being a US citizen I could no longer get a Canadian passport … but I will be talking to my sister about what I need to do. I guess I could have kept it short and simple said yes I believe I can.
I love hearing all this. SC to Ontario. Makes sense to me. I know others that have both passports.
Dee~ Such a touching post…the timelessness of passing time. That feeling of looking in and letting go – with no identity left to steal, and the sheer volume you must have had belonging to your sister, the trauma of the list of correspondence alone. sigh.
Glad to hear you are doing so well and accomplishing things that you want done. 🙂 Nancy
That first picture. So full of emotional conflict for me.
And absolutely yes to posting some fiction, whether it be scenes, chapters or scraps.
It’s as valid to you as a creator as are fiber WIPs. ~deb
I remember your sister from your posts…..always will.
Yeah. It was good to have this community —especially good I mean — during those years.