And Where, in God's name, have you been and What in God's name have you been doing?

Thus evoking some of the tone and word choice of my Mother, who somehow, strangely, shockingly, peacefully and completely, died about three months ago.  Somewhere smack in the middle of my absence from blogging (I miss you, I do, I do) the world has changed (doesn't it all the time?), but my little world has turned itself inside out, rolled itself around a few times and then spit me out, right back where I started.  A friend said to me, somewhere along the way, that she imagined I would gather a tremendous amount of learning, creativity, thought power and the world would probably be witness to my discoveries vis-a-vis the blog and other outlets.  Sure, I thought, but I'm wondering, still, what that might look like and when the urge might take hold.

Blogging seems to be a commitment that I seem to fall just shy of these days, so I'm going to chunk it down. Let's start with a commitment and an outline. Maybe it'll look a little like this, over the next period of days/weeks:
1.What was I doing in. say. November. December. (What was it about. Then?)
2. What happened to Mom? (Where'd you go? Why?)
3. What happened to Me? (in other words…Big Changes).
4. What's really hard? (Knot in my stomach)
5. What's really terrific? (where do I feel unencumbered?)
6. What makes me hurt a whole lot? (Why do I never cry anymore?)
7. What is this "Unencumbered" business, and where is this *brand* going…or…do we put it to bed, finally? (new avenues, avenues, avenues!)

-Seven Days of Blog Posts. Seven days of writing. Go figure.

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What was it about. Then?

 What was I doing in November and December? Barely hanging on.  I was exhausted at work, overcoming a bout of shingles, the weather was heading to a very bad place, and it was all I could do to enjoy sleep and some exercise.

I managed to craft a few nice things:

A gift for a Sixtieth Birthday

 And had some R&R in away towns...

Lazy Jane's, Madison

But now that I think about it, I kept on repeating the phrase, "If one more thing happens, I'll implode."  You know the place.  The place where your ears are ringing and you're hardly sleeping but you're not technically ill, insane, or even non-functioning.  So now that we're thinking in this fashion, we were at a steady clip in the fast lane and all we needed was a little water to hydroplane on and it would be over for me. For us (as in, the family), and certainly, for any pretense left of feeling Unencumbered.  Somewhere along the way, my spouse and I looked at each other and realized that it would be great to visit Oregon for a week following the major holiday celebrations.  We booked tickets, didn't give it a second thought, and started looking forward to a week on the Oregon Coast that would most likely deliver the quiet, rejuvenative energy we've come to expect from a visit home.

Night Swim. Nothing better. Outdoors.

If it isn't attached, it's outta here! Purge Time!!!

Oh, goddesses of the blogs...deliver me from my own purgative cleaning of the house to give words and pictures to some of this joy.  I'm in the middle of that fantabulous New Year ritual of trying to get rid of everything in the house that isn't nailed, stapled, glued or sewed on.  Good luck, you say? Well, sure, it's a tall task, but when it's sunny outside and bitter, bitter, cold, what's a gal to do but load up on highly caffeinated beverages and sift through every piece of arcana that she can lay her eyes on.  Closets, drawers, cabinets, basements, cupboards, fridges, floors, bathrooms, bedrooms, it's all fair game.  If we don't use it anymore and the emotional significance can be touched by another similar object (OK, don't touch the Barbie Camper!), it's on the short list for outta here! Enough is enough, and every single visit to my dear Mother, in her completely ordered universe, automatically provokes a cleaning/purging excursion upon my return to this place.  Halfway through day two and I can see the light...if only the adolescent lets me into her room I'll be really happy.

But it's lunchtime and I'm hungry!!! I swam about  7 hours ago and it's time to stop the insanity.  Cook up some brown rice soaked in a chicken broth that I made the other day, plus fried greens, I'm happy as a Camper!  I take a moment to channel my Dad, who, on some afternoons back in the day, on a day when he was home, working around the yard, usually.  He'd take a beer out and drink it with lunch.

And then she sat down and ate lunch, alone & in the sunshine!

Sometimes, into retirement, Mom would harumph or grumble or something if he did this.  That memory made me laugh today, like, my Dad had my silly mother judging when he might have a beer with a meal.  I feel that I have the judgement of the whole culture upon me... "It's a Friday at 2:00 beer?"  Oh, hell, of course!  Hearty meal plus beer/wine equals complete feast.  So I popped open a Sierra Nevada and enjoyed the first alone weekday in my home that I've experienced in a long long time.

Unencumbered, Indeed!

But actually, I didn't even sit down! I stood at the dining room table and rifled through more files, papers, photos, cards.  I even found a few gift cards for Ashby that amounted to nearly fifty bucks!!!! Are we really those people? We don't have time to count our money, we just collect things and lose them...arg!!!!

Something that Jack Steward would Never have done.  Here's another thing he would not have done: beer instead of wine at lunch.  He would always drink a glass of wine if we opened a bottle for dinner, but lunchtime, and evening, beer all the way.  He wasn't so sure about our fancy brews, but he basically approved.  Mom, on the other hand, was always a martini and cocktail lady.  She told me the story of her first meeting with the Stewards.  They went on a picnic (of course), and, according to Mom, it was required that she drink beer.  Never a beer drinker (then or now) her detailing of this outing tells the hidden tale of an incredibly earnest, respectful woman.  As Mom got older, we didn't always see these sorts of outward approvals of Dad's (or his family's) ways, but it was always there.  Firm, stable, loyal, loving, a model of companionship that carries me forward in this bumpy road that is relational life.

So there we have it!  A great day. Rejuvenated, energized, sunny.  Lucky, awake, and eager for more.

Puzzle, Run, Coffee.

early-seventies tape recorder...cleaning the closets.

Bye Bye, 2012.  The blender that is my mind has hardly slowed it's relentless grinding, even now that I've been in a somewhat restful state for at least a week. And when does the insanity stop?  I guess, LF, I owe you a summation of sorts, after all, there was the long build-up to Dad's departing, and the saying goodbye, and the grieving, so what now, end of year reflecting? Amidst the sadness of losing somebody who was dear for eighty eight years, there's so much tragedy that assaults our mind every day that our own authentic pain lies somewhere, lost between the personal and the news transmissions that reach us instantaneously and hit us like tremendous waves.  The urgency of technology and communication is profound and deadening to the senses.  In cleaning out some more objectia from parents' house, brother and I stumbled upon our tape recorder that had survived at least twelve years of enjoyment back in the 1970's and '80s.  I can glance across the room, almost any hour of the day today and see some member of my family glued to a silent device: laptop, ipod, smartphone, iphone. We resist only so much, and then, bam! it's in every seam and crevice of our daily life. 

Can we even remember this?  Imagine.

 One of the things that I love about these rare moments of retreat for family is the opportunity to plod about as if time hasn't raced ahead.  A jigsaw puzzle, a cup of coffee, a cloudy day on the coast.  Are there enough days left for all the puzzling I'd like to do?  If only, but a girl can dream.  I get swept into the puzzling of it, talking through my problems in my own head, while methodically assembling the object. 


Oh, indulgences, pastimes, sitting with oneself, pondering it all.

  And as per the cleaning that comes with loss and years' end.  We also took a stab at Dad's shotglass collection, which may have numbered in the area of three hundred?  I sat with Mom and took them all off the shelves, pushed aside the ones that bore no great significance to us, and then replaced the forty or so that she or I thinks worth keeping, at least for now.  Antiques, colleges, travel memorabilia.  Feeling fresh and lively to look at.  Lighter for the new year, but never finished. Never finished saying goodbye and looking through the memories. It's what we have, after all.

Dad's shot-glass collection, pared down to under 40. 

Hawaii, rooster, Oregon Coast





My new heroes. Hello New Year with the Florence 5K!

And then New Year's Day came.  Sunny, clear, cool, brilliantly clean air.  Friends gathered on Bay Street, much as we had two years ago.  This year I managed to recruit two newbies.  Ashby, for sure, the youngest participant.  She attacked the event with vigor and a great big smile.  Peter thoroughly enjoyed his morning on the river front.  And so it goes, the cycle, warm hearts, exercise, energy and hope for a new year! Ashby said to me, upon finishing, "Mom, can I run with you again, maybe tomorrow?" Dad's not here anymore.  Mom's still here, healthy and dosing us with snappy retorts here and there.  We're here, making the very best of what we can.  Puzzle, Run, Coffee. Puzzle, Run, Coffee. Puzzle, Run, Coffee.