Losses

Annabelle (1996-2011)

Cat Ghosts

I

Years after

in a kitchen of another country

you're still hungry

II

In the heat of the day

your shadow comes back

to lie on your stone

— W. S. Merwin

Gloria Cochran (1924-2011) in 1983, laughing

My mother lived a long and, I think, rewarding life. I always knew she loved me with all her heart, as she did all her family: children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and many others. In fact, we were her heart.

The last time I saw her, just a couple of weeks before she passed away on March 9th, she looked into my eyes, smiled, and poured all that love right back into my heart.

I am missing my little Annabelle, and we are missing our dear Gig.

Too much

Hydrangea Neck Warmer in Gobi

Too much winter makes me cranky. Snow on snow, colder and colder. The days may be growing longer, but they just begin to feel endless. A cold has kept me home for a couple of days, though, and I've been knitting and making soup and trying to pull myself out of the pit I seem to be in. I think I see the way out, but I still have a climb ahead of me.

Simple Baktus in Cormo/Mohair

Watching Annabelle as she fades is hard, but I don't really realize it until something in her behavior changes. She likes the idea of eating more than her body wants food. I open a fresh can, offering her whatever she wants, just in case she does want to eat. She peers at it, sometimes taking a bite, sometimes not. She knows best, and I'm trying to listen to her.

Of course I don't want her to go, but I am determined not to keep her here longer than she needs to be. I don't want to think about daily life without my little sentinel, but I must. I've accompanied many beloved pets to the end of their lives, and yet I don't feel prepared for it now. I look at Annabelle and think that I'm so grateful to her, to this little soul more than any other, for watching over me when I was sick.

This little buff tabby has been a good lesson for me, with her affectionate distance and obvious sense of her own self. She's always been this way; the minute I saw her contemplating me from across the room in the ARF adoption center, I knew she had been sent to me.

Until it's time for her to go, I'll be keeping her as close as she will allow, and listening.

Drifting back

I'm still here!

Nothing monumental has kept me away from the blog. I drifted away; I don't know what else to call it. I've heard from many friends — little notes with worry attached to them, hesitant questions about my absence and my health — and I want to tell you all how dear you are, and how sorry I am to have concerned you.

I'm also a little sorry that lately most of my (spotty) contact with my friends and my family has been through Facebook, because not everyone uses it, and it certainly doesn't replace the blog, or an email, or a call. I want to remedy that.

My life has been occupied with realities, and I suppose they have been enough to have changed my focus and drawn me away from the small bits of writing that I've always done, both here and privately.

My health has been one reality — but it's "just" the chronic lymphedema that is one of the souvenirs of my cancer treatment (my lymphatic system in my legs doesn't function properly any more). I spent a couple of months going for treatment at a Wound Care Center for an infection in one leg, then at Christmas I developed another infection in my other leg. I've made progress, but still, I have to learn how to live with and manage this condition, because I can't function when it's taking over my daily life. That, and I'd like to be able to take a walk.

Another reality — which I've spoken of on Facebook — is that my dear cat Annabelle is seriously ill. At Thanksgiving the vet diagnosed an inoperable tumor in her small intestine, and since then I've been giving and getting all the love I can, and waiting for the time when her little self lets me know she needs to leave. Right this minute, she's purring in her usual place, under the lamp on my desk. She spends her days eating a little, sleeping a lot, and reminding me that she's in charge around here. I'm going to miss her so.

Since having to spend so much time with my feet up, I've been doing a lot of knitting. I made some beautiful Christmas gifts, but did I photograph them? Of course not! There was: a Porom tam in Foxfire Fibers Cormo/Silk/Alpaca, a Honey Cowl in Sundara DK, two Hydrangea Neckwarmers in Spirit Trail Berte and Foxfire Cormo/Silk/Alpaca, a pair of Foxglove mitts in Berrocco Blackstone Tweed, and some silly coffee cup cozies for my coworkers in miscellaneous leftover yarns. I did take a picture of the sock yarn /lavender sachets, though.

So here I am. It's a new year, and the days are already growing longer. I hope I can be present here more often. I've missed it, and I've missed you. ♥

Ten on Tuesday: Mood Lifters

This week's Ten on Tuesday is all about lightening your mood...

 1. Buy yourself a nice bouquet of flowers.

2. Get a little love from the cat. Even if she won't let you pick her up and give her a squeeze, she loves you.

3. Have some comfort food. One of my favorites is a nice bowl of Cream of Wheat, because my grandmother used to make it for us.

4. Enjoy a sunset by the water.

5. Watch a favorite movie. I like Meet Me in St. Louis, even when it's not Christmas time.

6. Listen to some good music that makes you smile. For me, that's The Weepies.

7. Rest. Don't climb into bed and never leave, just close your eyes for a little while. When I was sick I learned how to rest, and it's served me well. Our bodies and spirits need it, especially when we're overwhelmed or blue.

8. Look up.

9. Have a knitting-in-your-pajamas day.

10. Celebrate yourself. Don't ever forget to do that. ♥

Watchful

I'm in good paws.

Almost summertime

A little damselfly paid my hat a visit!

 I was sitting there last night, about to begin to knit on a sock, when I heard some yarn talking to me. It was Catskill Merino, which Clara at Knitter's Review wrote about a few weeks ago, and which had arrived on my doorstep "by accident." I listened carefully as the yarn -- a soft, plump worsted weight singles dyed with indigo -- asked to be knit into something right away. So I cast on a Honeycomb Hat from The Knitter's Book of Yarn. 

Still there!

 By this morning it was off the needles, so I washed it and set it out on my little deck to dry. I love this yarn! It's not a true single, because up close you can see that two strands have been twisted together, but it behaves like a single, and I'm sure that it will pill with abrasion. It's just right for a soft, warm hat. I've made one of these before, and it's my favorite hat to wear.
 

A few days ago Annabelle ventured down the stairs, but something across the driveway made her turn around just after I took the picture. From this angle her rear end doesn't look too ample, so she said I could post this. She's very careful about such things, you know. She rarely goes outside; she wants to, but she doesn't like to, so every once in a while I let her try it. She lasts about three minutes, on average, which is just fine with me.

In another "right in my own back yard" moment, about ten days ago I took this picture of a pale pink peony. I like what the Hipstamatic iPhone app does with color. It looks so old.

Ten days? What have I been doing? Working. The store move is complete, except for a couple of shelves that are still being built, and we're about to enter the real Summer Season. In any spare time, I've been resting up and knitting.

I had been plugging away on this pair of Celebrate Spring socks in Sundara Sock Sage over Butter, but the second one is on time-out. This one just doesn't fit right (I think it's the unforgiving rows of purl stitches that go right over the biggest part of my big ankle), and I'll need to think about it before I proceed.

I still have socks going on, though. My friend Kristopher and I are having a little Summertime Sock Knitalong, just the two of us. We decided on a pattern (Anne Hanson's excellent Dolomite Socks), made a "rule" that we had to cast on with a yarn in our stash that we haven't used before (that's easy, but it meant No Sundara for me), and off we went. My yarn is Frija from Spirit Trail, and Kris is working with Briar Rose Grandma's Blessing. This pattern is nice and stretchy, and easy to memorize. The yarn is lovely -- it's merino, cashmere and a little bit of nylon.

Knitting will keep me going all through the summer, as it always does. There have also been quarts and quarts of local strawberries, my other early summer salvation. I froze most of them for later -- smoothies in August!

I've been trying to reclaim my reading mojo, which left a couple of months ago (distressing, when you sell books for a living). I'm reading Simon Van Booy's short story collection, The Secret Lives of People in Love. He's brilliant -- his stories really are like poems, as Roger Rosenblatt is quoted on Simon's website. He's also a frequent visitor to the bookstore (as is Roger; we're so lucky!), and he's coming to read and sign books this Saturday.  Stop by if you're in the neighborhood -- 5:00pm on Saturday the 19th.

The hat should be dry by now, and my socks are calling. Another Sunday off is coming to a close, so I want to make the most of what's left.

Budding fortune

I went wandering again today, but not far. I guess everyone knows by now that I love to visit Long Beach, on Little Peconic Bay near Sag Harbor (it has another, more official name, but Long Beach is just what it is). Ever since I moved here in 1993, this place has been a kind of touchstone for me. It was windy today -- loud and blustery, not cold but brisk. I got a good dose of it.

Back at home, in my own back yard, I found a lot of activity. The forsythia are about to burst.

The maple trees are, too.

And the dear, sweet wisteria that twines around the top of my stairs and makes me so happy (unless it decides to try to grow through my door in mid-summer) is just beginning to think about Spring.

This little leaf bud looks like some sort of bug, don't you think?

I'm still working away on my cardigan, but who wants to see a lumpy pile of yarn covered with a halo of cat hair? Sometimes I wonder why Annabelle isn't bald. To break it up a little, and because monogamous knitting is not something I can manage to maintain (forgive me, members of the Yarn Church), I began a new pair of socks. This is Ann Budd's lovely Celebrate Spring pattern, in Sundara's sock yarn, Sage over Butter.

I've also been -- gasp! -- spinning a little. I've decided to try to spin more, and only on my Reeves wheel. I've never really used it enough, and so I'm not completely confident on it. I'm not making any rules here, just establishing an intention.

The Knitter's Book of Wool Woolalong fiber for this month is Bluefaced Leicester, so I spun up eight ounces of dyed Superwash BFL top from Jen at Spirit Trail Fiberworks. If I finish plying the whole batch I might make something like a Morning Surf Scarf, which I think would work with this yarn.

My spinning ability has suffered a bit this past year. I don't notice it all the time, but there's some lingering neuropathy in my hands that doesn't affect my knitting (except that it slows me down a little). I notice it when I'm spinning, though. It's a good thing I don't mind, and that lumpy handspun is just as pretty (to me, at least) as smooth, even yarn. The spinning's the thing. I love to spin and listen to an audiobook, or to just the whir of the wheel. And the Reeves, though it's so big and daunting, is a joy to have and use. It's made so well, with thought and craftsmanship in every detail. I'm a fortunate spinner!

Consoled

Poromity! It's a beautiful hat, amazing yarn, and fun to knit. But. It looks terrible on me. I'm not a tam person after all, or just not a creamy natural white tam person. I even frogged it back and made it less slouchy, but no, it still looks like a pouf of bread dough is perched on my head. I'm sure I'll find a tam-headed person to give it to, so I'm not too sad about it. I wonder if it still counts as a completed Knitting Olympics project?


My consolation has been my other Woolalong project, the Mara shawl in Foxfire Cormo Alpaca Lace. I'm on the last few rows -- I'll bind off when there's just enough yarn left to do it. The finished shawl will be smaller than the size pictured in the pattern, since it's fingering weight yarn instead of worsted. It's been a calming, centering knit, mostly garter stitch with a ribbed ruffle at the edge. And I guess you can tell by the photograph that someone likes it very much!


I love this Lavender Buds color. The natural color of the alpaca peeks through the lavender every once in a while, which gives the yarn more... something. Something good, that is.


Last week was a hard week. My friend and landlord's little cat died suddenly, and I was here to help bury her. There were some small volcanoes at work. And I learned that a long-time customer, M, a kind man who was being treated for cancer at the same time I was, is now receiving hospice care. He and I shared our chemo stories, and had some wonderful conversations, too. He has a wife and two daughters, and he and his family have always been among our most beloved customers.

I rang my little bell for Barry Fraser, though. He's a blogger in Toronto who finished his chemotherapy on Thursday and asked people to join him in ringing the bell. I did. I took my little bell (the one my Cancer Center gave me on my own last day of chemo) to work with me and went to the back room at 2:00, and rang it with all my might, along with all the others that were ringing around the world.

I rang it for Barry, for myself, for Judy’s friend, and for everyone else who is on this journey. If I'd been conscious of it right then, I'd have added special thoughts for M to my small prayer. It wasn't until later in the afternoon that I learned about his being so sick.

Asking why me never seemed like a good way to expend my energy, or like a question that would be likely to have an answer. I just determined to move forward. Take the action, do the thing, have small faith in myself, enough small faith. Find the kernel of strength that could grow into something, into the thing that it took to do the work and finish the job. That's all -- not simple, not easy, just necessary. That is what Barry has done, and I'm sure it's what M has done. We all do it. Those of us living in the world of cancer know how easily the path can descend into darkness, but we keep going anyway, for as long as we can or as long as it takes.

For me, for now, I'm out of the woods and on a brighter, clearer path. I'm grateful and I know how blessed I am. I know that there are many blessings in Barry’s life, and in M’s life too. They're just different. I wish I could give them some of what I have, and I'm thankful for what they've given me. By sharing their experiences with me, they've given me a real gift. To Barry, and especially to M at this moment, I'm deeply grateful.

The news made me so sad. It's hard and depressing and it just plain hurts. Here I am, doing so well, and he's not. I'm so fortunate. I guess that's what I am. I don't feel fortunate right now, though. I just wonder why him.

Annabelle, Olive, and Kermit

Annabelle's taking a few minutes before she heads off to the foot of the bed to ask you to do something. She wants you to join Olive and Kermit's blogathon to raise money for Haiti. It's really simple -- just go to the New York Times list of charitable organizations, or do what Annabelle did, and donate to Partners in Health and Doctors Without Borders. It doesn't matter what you decide, as long as you go ahead and make a donation.

Thank you!

Goodness

Blocked and waiting for Annabelle's final inspection -- the Cedar Falling Waters shawl. It's still pinned out on the floor this morning, and I'll leave it there until I get home from work. It's probably dry, but I know me; once I unpin it I'll have to look at it, then put it on, then play with it ...but it's Monday, and I need to get to work. The light was so poor yesterday that the photo can't show how shimmery the purl bumps are, or how the tilting things wave across the surface. And the colors -- they are so cedar-y!

While I watched the shawl dry I finished a pair of Sweet Fern mitts from The Knitter's Book of Wool. I was knitting along on the second one, happily making the thumb increases, la-de-da hooray for me, when I realized I was making a second right-hand mitt. Oh well. When I posted about it on Facebook, I was pleased to learn that it happens to the best knitters sometimes! The yarn is Aarni from Riihivilla, a yarn which my friend Kris forced me to order. Its base is a blend of natural colors, and it's dyed with indigo, so it's a very interesting yarn. I popped the pair into a bath last night and they're still drying, so I'll try to get photos during the week. I also blocked two of the hats I made. I'm on a roll, it seems!

It might be that I'm gearing up for the Knitter's Review Retreat, which is happening in just a few weeks. I have lots to do in the stash before I leave -- there are many bags to sort so I can bring things to swap in the Stash Lounge, and I have to decide what I'm going to knit while I'm there, and I want to choose a yarn and project to start on Sunday morning.

It also might be that I had very good news last week. I'd been dreading my second three-month checkup with Dr. Pearl. Last time there was still some concern about my blood work, so we were being watchful and waiting to see how it would be this time. Well, it was the best it's ever been. So normal that it's crazy-normal. The three of us -- me, Dr. P. and Nurse Sylvia -- were thrilled! I feel like I've been doing things right (as in getting healthier), and I can keep going without all the worry. I'm so very grateful to be in the care of this wonderful doctor and nurse, and I'm also very proud of what I've done.

Oh, and I got my first haircut the other day!

Somewhat random, with heart

The other morning I was making my favorite iced coffee, just casually pouring the coffee into the frothed milk (I like to make the milk frothy, and I have one of those little gizmos that does it), and look what happened! A glass of caffeinated love! A barrista moment! I couldn't do it again if I tried.

I'm making good progress on my Boxleaf shawl, but a new photo would look just like the one I posted before. I don't know how many stitches I have on the needles at this point, or how many I'll end up with, but boy, those rows are getting long. I used to be able to do an entire ten-row repeat in one sitting, but not any longer. I have to remember to mark my place, but it's also pretty easy to find my place if I lose it. I'm going to knit until I get close to running out of yarn, and 500 yards will make a nice shawl.

I'd like to be almost finished with the shawl in time to start the Knitter's Review knitalong for Amy's Hedgerow Mitts, which starts on June 15. The pattern is based on my socks, and I love it. Amy and I talked about it last year, Clara loved the idea and encouraged her to do it, and the pattern made its debut on May 28. I'm thrilled for Amy, and I can't wait to get started on my first pair! They'll be in a beautiful red shade of Alexandra from Spirit Trail Fiberworks.

Though I've settled into my skin a bit more since my last post, I'm still finding new ways to think about my life with cancer. It's summer at the bookstore, so a day doesn't go by without my seeing someone I haven't seen in months, or even a year. It's not easy, but I'm getting used to having small conversations about myself with people who are sweet and kind and concerned. I'm not used to sharing much more than book recommendations with my customers, so I'm developing ways to share a little bit of my experience to reassure these lovely people -- yes, I have been sick, but yes, I am on my way to being well. Thank goodness I've practiced here!

Annabelle had the best idea for this sunny, breezy Sunday -- a nice nap in the window, and a bit of a bath. Now, however, she would like her supper. I can't turn her down. Besides, she won't let me forget what time it is!


Have a wonderful week, everyone. Thank you for coming here, and thank you for all your kind, interesting, and uplifting comments and emails. I don't know if I'd be traveling forward (or upright, for that matter) if I were on this road all by myself.

~:~
Today, June 7, is National Cancer Survivors Day. I guess that includes me!
~:~

Little question

You'd think I could have nipped this little habit in the bud, but of course I failed. She knows who's in charge.

There is little question that I have been away from this space for too long. I want to do something about that. I miss it. Now that my world is about to open up again -- yes, I am finished with chemotherapy! -- I hope to find myself knitting more, and living life, and writing about it again.

I'm still processing what it means to have successfully navigated these past five and a half months. It will be a while before I do, and for now the good old slow and steady approach still serves. I feel cautious about everything -- but happy, definitely happy. I did it!

If only winter were not so relentless! I want sunshine! I want bright blue skies! Instead, it's been snowing this morning, and rain is on the way. There's been ice and snow on the ground forever, and the gray of the sky and the ground and everything in between doesn't help. I'm tired enough that I slog through each day anyway, and having to add a trudge over leftover snow in colorless light and landscape is just too much, don't you think?

I'm knitting away on little things, but nothing is worth showing yet. I started a Whimsy Lace Scarf just like Rosi's (because hers is an inspiration) with Hand Maiden Mini Maiden (just like Rosi) in "Paris." It's a wonderful pattern with lots of short rows, so it's fun to knit. I love the yarn, too. There are socks, of course. And I feel some mitts coming on.

There'll be time for all of it, but ...

... just now, I think Annabelle has the right idea!

Two beautiful things

Sunset on the last day of summer.

Warm cat fur.

Randomness (like Sandy, only I don't do it as well):

1. It's now officially my favorite time of the year.
2. Rhinebeck is less than a month away.
3. Judy and the Remarkable R's and I have had our motel reservations since last October. We reserved the same room in the same little place.
4. I am knitting too many things at once. I might have to stop starting new projects.
5. I am constitutionally incapable of that.
6. Saltines and cottage cheese are not stuff to live on. Thank goodness that's over for now.
7. I don't think I have a wish list to take to Rhinebeck. I'm just pleased that I will be there.
8. There are a few people who I can't wait to see.
9. I love Zappos. I ordered three pairs of shoes late yesterday afternoon and they'll arrive today. I'll return the ones I don't want. Almost instant shopping gratification makes me happy.
10. It's time to get a move on if I want to get to work at a decent hour.

Slow and steady

The last time I posted, a whole month ago, I said that life is full. Here is a little of what it contains…

On a Tuesday at the end of May I was diagnosed with endometrial (uterine) cancer. By Thursday I was sitting in a chair opposite “my” gynecologic oncologist, Dr. Pearl. Ten days later, on June 3rd, he performed surgery, and two days after that I came home to be looked after by my sister Sarah and my wonderful friends and family.

I have Stage III C endometrial cancer, which means that some cancer cells jumped ship and climbed on board a lymph node. I’ll need chemotherapy to chase down and obliterate any other cells that might have escaped. It’s in the works, and I’ll start treatment in about two weeks. This news was really hard to take, but now that I know The Plan, I’m almost anxious to get going. Dr. Pearl and his team -- my team -- are one of the unexpected blessings of this experience. I’m in very, very good hands.

I’m coping by thinking and looking ahead, but also by being here right now. Here I am, on the brink. What choice do I have but to put one foot in front of the other, carefully, but moving forward nevertheless? I see no way to navigate this except slowly and steadily. I feel strong, not vulnerable. Today, I don’t want to crawl under the covers; last week was a different story. Perhaps that desire will come again, but not now. I’m surrounded by blessings. People love me so. That’s how I will get through these next few months, and that might be what this experience is all about.

My job is waiting for me, but I miss it terribly. How many years have I been complaining about summer at the bookstore, about the crowds and the craziness? It was a bit of a shock to feel so sad about not being there. In a few weeks I’ll be able to return for an hour or two at a time, and then I’ll work my way towards a more regular schedule. Slowly, though. I have a lot on my plate.



Meanwhile, I have good knitting in my lap. The Tuscany shawl is deeply satisfying. It is filled with a kind of power that I’m either giving to it or getting from it -- I’m not sure which yet. Perhaps it’s both? I’m knitting that green scarf for Spirit Trail Fiberworks -- still, and happily -- and there are socks on needles, too, to be picked up from time to time as my ability to concentrate waxes and wanes.



Sweet Annabelle is watching over me, and now that I’m stronger and my sister has gone home to Chicago, I have a steady stream of visitors and callers, all stepping in to help in any way they can. I’m moving slowly, resting often, indulging my whims, and paying close attention to what my healing body has to say.

This month has been filled with tears and worries, but also with lots of laughter. Funny things have been funnier than usual. I like that. It hurts to laugh, but it’s worth it! The thing remains: I have cancer. It’s not a cold. It took surgery, and now chemotherapy, and it will take hard work and patience and love to overcome it. Today, I’m ready. Or willing. Ready is a strange word for what I am. I’m open.

~:~

I have a couple of things to ask of anyone who might read this: I know I’m discussing my personal life in a very public place, and it’s by no means private, but it was my decision to do so. You’ve all shared your highs and lows with me, after all. And if someone clicks on one of the links at the end of this post and learns something, it’s worth it.

It’s important to me to be honest and open here, but I haven’t shared everything, not by a long shot. I hope that you’ll honor my choice, and not take this news to any public forum. I don’t think I could face seeing bits of my life strewn all over the place, open to dissection and discussion. Putting it here is enough.

What I would like are your healing thoughts and prayers, lots of light, more juju to add to what Clara is already bottling, and one more thing -- hope. Be hopeful!

I am.

~:~

Here are a few links to information on endometrial cancer:

Women's Cancer Network

National Cancer Institute
Medline Plus/NIH

C is for

Cotton.

I don't suppose too many people have a little bundle of cotton in their collection of family heirlooms, do they? I do. My grandfather was a cotton classer from the 1920's through the 1940's. He started out in Texas, and his company sent him to work in Brazil in the 1930's.

This paper-wrapped bundle is what he brought home as a souvenir. It was a favorite item for Show and Tell for all of us kids, and somehow it has remained intact. I think my grandfather must have been good at classing cotton; he was meticulous and focused. I don't have any idea what grade this bit would be, though.

This is my father at about age ten, with my grandparents, on the ship to Brazil. What adventures were they imagining? I know that they loved living there, in Recife and Sao Paulo, and that they made many life-long friends and good memories. [Wow, I look a lot like my grandmother!]

My sister has much of the correspondence that went back and forth between them and their families, there are boxes of documents to sort through, and I have the one photo album from their time there. Shouldn't we put them all together one of these days? I'd love to know the whole story!

C could also be for Miss Nosy-Cat.

Annie hearts yarn

But I sure do wish that her devotion didn't include drooling.

It was all I could do to get an unobstructed shot of my new favorite thing in the world (besides the cat, of course).

This is Buffalo Gals Bison Merino 2-Ply in Garnet. Clara Parkes reviewed its cousin, Bison Merino 3-Ply, in this past week's Knitter's Review newsletter. I don't post about most of the yarn I find, but this one deserves the spotlight. It is so soft, so sweet, and such a deep, rich color.

I happened to click on the newsletter just as it was posted late Wednesday night. This yarn spoke to me in a sweet voice, yet a firm one. I didn't even attempt to think it over. I was also extremely impressed by Judith MacKenzie McCuin's journey with this fiber, and I wanted to support her effort. Before the page had finished loading I think I was on my way over to Carolina Homespun to place an order (I heart Morgaine).

Now that I have it in my hands (or wrapped in a cloth to keep somebody from rolling in it) and can feel it and make plans for it, I want more. I'm resisting for now, but that Montana Nights blue is gorgeous. As Clara pointed out, this is not an inexpensive yarn, but it's also in limited supply. I know I'll treasure the knitting and the wearing.

I don't have any knitting to write about. I've been working on Stuff, but most of my time has been spent dealing with work things. Yes, I know that last week I rhapsodized about how much I love my job, how I love to go to work every day, how I look forward to the possibilities...

But some days -- some weeks, even -- my idyllic, romantic job leaves me drained and speechless. It's over now, and it wasn't a crisis, but it sure was complicated, uncomfortable and exhausting. Now I really am looking forward to going to work tomorrow!