Cold Rain and Snow

Some of us - there is a name for it, I'm sure - awake in the fall, when the gunmetal November skies return, the cold rain falls, and an icy swirl forms on the insides of storm windows in the old farmhouse. The frost is on the pumpkin and the mud freezes into ruts.  The soft cushion of leaves turns to a stiff crunch underfoot, layered with a top frosting of first snowfall.  The woods quiet down, the helter-skelter of noisy summer heads south, and we are left with whatever sound rings true - the rush of a brook, the squeak and skid of strong oak limbs in an upsurge of wind, and the hoot of an owl calling out across the ridgelines.

There are times in these dark woods when you imagine that cities have never been built, that the era of humans has come and gone.  You notice the direction of the wind - a southerly blow means a change of weather - and you know just how much daylight is left after what weakly passes for the sun drops down below the western ridgeline.

At first, I thought that the winder woods were about nothing - an antidote to a world stuffed with everything.  The winter makes you work for it, makes you reach out and grab whatever truth is buried in the hills and swales.  Summer offers itself glibly, like some garishly suited hawker of entertainment.  The winter work is worth it for those who can sift through the stanzas of triple meaning, how a leaden sky offers release from quotidian burdens.

You think of disturbing the universe with a new thought.  Maybe all that has come before has no meaning, or perhaps there is no meaning at all.  The signs of human ignorance are everywhere; a dead fox decomposing into an upper pasture, bear tracks in soft snow, a great horned owl gliding silently through a thickly wooded hollow.  I sift through clues to observe what lies behind the dark curtain of forest.

I fall asleep, dreaming of November woods, with no fear of waking.  Let others drown in what might have been.

-Christopher Kimball

Death

Access Hollywood was on the TV and I had my laptop on the couch shopping for ridiculous cubic zirconia rings for going out and fake-impressing people.

And I half heard something on the TV about Roger Ebert winning an award, so I went to his Wiki page  to read what was going on.  And I eventually read the following statement that he made, while confronting his own impending death from cancer:

I know it is coming, and I do not fear it, because I believe there is nothing on the other side of death to fear. I hope to be spared as much pain as possible on the approach path. I was perfectly content before I was born, and I think of death as the same state. What I am grateful for is the gift of intelligence, and for life, love, wonder, and laughter. You can't say it wasn't interesting. My lifetime's memories are what I have brought home from the trip. I will require them for eternity no more than that little souvenir of the Eiffel Tower I brought home from Paris.

And now I'm reminded of my deathly fear of death.

And I don't feel like buying costume jewelry online anymore.

Sharpie tattoos and a betadine belly

I took a 12 week Lamaze course when I was pregnant.  I was there to learn how to refuse medical intervention and manage labor pain without anesthesia.  I read two dozen books on ways to limit medical procedures during labor and delivery.  I wrote about 15 versions of my birth plan and talked to every single doctor in my practice (7) so they knew I wanted no intervention and no medication.  This was all for one reason: I wanted to avoid major, invasive surgery that is a cesarean section.

Little did I know, just one year later, I'd be gassed, cut open in 4 places, shoved around and stitched back together.

Five Below

I hate how people only ever use the word "balmy" in a sarcastic way in the wintertime. It ain't funny no more.

Going Gray

Life is pretty funny, in a completely non-funny way.  All my life I've been about as Pro-Life, Anti-Abortion as a person could possibly be.  Without, of course, being one of those crazies who holds up signs about God hating people.  In 6th grade CCD (c. 1991) I remember making a poster, with the Virgin Mary holding her Baby Jesus and the caption: What if Mary were Pro-Choice?  I got the award, BEST PRO-LIFE POSTER IN THE HARRISBURG DIOCESE that year. I've had more than my share of ethics debates, and I never wanted to consider the outliers, the anecdotes, "What if a pregnancy is non-viable?" "What if it threatens the health of the mother?" etc.   Those stories are just meant to confuse the black-and-white moral issue.  Even through my first pregnancy and birth of my baby, I proudly powered through as one staunch Pro-Life advocate.

But for some unknown reason, here I am, today.  Personally, medically, physically in this situation that occurs less than 1% of the time, facing the exact choice myself that I used to stick my fingers in my ears to ignore.  It's a no-brainer.  I'm thankful that there are drugs which can help me survive this situation.  Knowing there was never a baby, a heartbeat, a viable life in question.  It's been eye opening.

Work, between Christmas and New Year's Eve

Top 5 things people say:

1. It's really quiet - so I can finally get stuff done!

2. Perfect time to really focus and concentrate.

3. Not all of us have vacation days to spare.

4. Great time to write reports and clean out my desk.

5. I get more work done in these couple days than I do in a typical month!

Top 5 things people think:

1. I want to piss around and not do shit.

2. I'm saving my vacation days for an actual vacation.

3. More time at work = less time with in-laws.

4. I only take vacation when my boss doesn't.

5. I am getting away without doing a single fucking thing.

Weather

Everyone says, "This is the best time of the year!" Clutching their pumpkin spice lattes and walking to work in knee high boots and short sleeved shirts in mid September. Then the first 40F rain hits and the wind blows hard and those giant orange leaves actually start to cover the ground and it's dark outside by 5pm and all of a sudden everyone stops talking about those lattes. And you start to see people at work with scarves that have little to do with fashion and all the labor intensive hairdos get covered by oddly functional hats and you get to see what people's real faces look like without the distraction of jewelry and hairspray. We all look much more human. And a little more silly. That is why I love the fall.