The View from Underneath

I had one of those great days yesterday - I just ended up enjoying everything although nothing out of the ordinary happened. Just that my brain didn't get in the way with stupid stuff - anxiety or fretfulness or whatever.

Got almost all of the housecleaning done except for the floor mopping. I like to do that when no hubbies are going to come back in when the floor is still wet, and he was busy either in or around the house all day so I'm waiting till today when I think he's going to go out thistle-whacking again.

But the best part of the day was when I decided it was time to go for a walk, ostensibly just down to the red gate to pick up the mail. I did put on my camera pack, just in case, although didn't start out feeling very inspired. But, oh my goodness, it was one of those great walks. I didn't get back until three hours later with some interesting shots in the camera and four-five miles under my belt. The highlight was watching a mama mallard with her five adorable ducklings swimming on the river.

I got my butt damp taking this picture from underneath the metal bridge that crosses the Chowchilla about a quarter mile past the red gate. Even though I was on solid ground, everything is just kind of wet there so just sitting setting up the camera was enough. Once I got started walking again though, my pants didn't stay uncomfortable for long.

Looking Up

I recently finished reading "Women, Food and God", by Geneen Roth. I rather liked it, but I do tend to admire her approach, although I wish there had actually been more "God" in this. Not that I'm avidly religious, photos of cherubim notwithstanding, but I have found that for some of us maintaining a healthy attitude toward eating requires a strong attention to the spiritual. This book advocates a "be here now" philosophy - feel your emotions now instead of numbing them with food.

What really got me going on an interesting side tangent was a quote she included in the book, from James Joyce's short story, "A Painful Case". The quote as I found it in Roth's book was along the lines of: "He lived a short way from his body" and it was used as an example of how most of us are so disconnected from our bodies and ourselves that we have no clue who we are and so of course we eat (or we drug or we do whatever we do to numb out). Well, since inquiring minds always want to know, I used a well-known search engine to do additional research. Turns out that is not the way Joyce wrote that sentence. What he wrote is: "He lived at a little distance from his body, regarding his own acts with doubtful side-glasses."

Disclosure: I am not a Joyce scholar; I'm not that smart. I tried to read Ulysses some years ago in college and failed. It made my eyes cross. I was grateful that this was just a short story.

What I found most fascinating about this research is not the actual story of Mr. Duffy or the intellectuals who dissect the Joyceian realm, but the fact that the incorrect quote that Roth used turned out to be so prevalent in that sort of self-help literature. Evidently no one thought that it would actually be useful or relevant to look up what Joyce actually said, which held ever so much more meaning.

Re: the photo. I found that little angel resting in the treehouse located in my parents' back yard.

Just Stuff

(A miniature rose with a huge color)

Finally got myself convinced to take the plunge and do something about the hearing situation in my right ear and went to the hearing aid center yesterday for a fitting. I should get the hearing aid in a couple of weeks. Yikes, it was expensive! Insurance didn't cover a single penny of it. In spite of knowing in general how much it was going to be, it still was a little more than I'd hoped for, and I found my brain saying that I should be careful not to lose it, so maybe I shouldn't wear it. Isn't it dumb some of the stuff our brains come up with? Here - let me build a shrine to the hearing aid and only look at its costly little self. Sigh.

On the way to work yesterday, as I was opening the horse gate, I looked down the fence line only to spot a wild pig standing a hundred yards away, intently watching my activities. He looked like a darker uglier version of Wilbur the pig (from an animated version of Charlotte's Web) with his ears cocked just so and his front legs planted with toes out in what would be an endearing pose except that wild pigs are not very nice. I asked him just exactly what he found so interesting and at that he trotted to the fence, squeezed himself under and went on his hairy merry way.

Grabbing It By The Something or Others

I found this nifty couple of sentences in the book I'm reading right now - well one of the books, this is the one I have in my office for enjoyment during my lunch break - from Eat, Pray, Love:

"When you sense a faint potentiality for happiness after such dark times you must grab onto the ankles of that happiness and not let it go until it drags you face-first out of the dirt – this is not selfishness, but obligation. You were given life; it is your duty (and also your entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight."

After all the recent uncertainty about my work situation, and worry about my husband's heart attack from which he is recovering wonderfully, and still feeling grief over two deaths in the last year and still getting used to the move here from the Bay Area I felt like I was really in the soup there for a couple of weeks. Yet all along, there were those bright shining moments of beauty smacking me in the face - driving home down the hill and seeing that magic hour of light as the sun is starting to slant just right into our little valley.

I guess I really kind of hoped I would be laid off too so I could spend more time in the garden and do more writing and fiddle with the camera. That's not how it was so my choice is to make the best of it and look for the good stuff and the happiness right here and now anyway. Someone said that you're in hell if you want to be somewhere other than where you are.

Tomorrow, I am going to plant a big patch of purple petunias. And then I'll pull about 84 more cubic yards of weeds and add them to the pile. As I weed, I see visions of what the garden can be, will be soon.

Snagged

Oh dear, it does seem that time has slipped by me again. I was going to write something sage-like about how it is that only one or two little things can trip us up - all wisely related to the poor fly pictured above, but I don't feel wise just now.

I've been in hermit mode, riding out a bit of stress related to work uncertainties. Those turned into certainties last week - or at least certain for the time being which is about all one can expect. So, at the moment I am still employed which means that I've now achieved 80% relief and 80% disappointment. Yes it adds up somehow. However, I've got a new boss, as my previous one (and favorite) did end up getting laid off.

The old mind is starting to get itself wrapped around all the changes, although there was the ickiest bout of neck muscle spasm-up over the weekend. I woke up Sunday morning hearing my own inner voice telling me "It's going to be OK." Oddly enough, that's exactly what I wanted to hear - my new mantra for the time being.

Wait, Is That a Little Joy Creeping In?

With my husband on the mend and starting to get out and about, back to a more usual routine for him, I am less fretful and anxious. Deep sigh of relief.

I had a great afternoon yesterday and spent a couple of pleasant hours making a clay face. I'd gone to the Open Mind Bookstore in town because I wanted to meet the artist who made the wonderful Him and Her dolls I wrote about some months ago. I deeply appreciate the opportunity to talk and to work with the clay - heh, even though my little face turned out to have a bit of a duck-bill looking mouth. Since I LIKE ducks, this is not a criticism.

After I headed home, I took a little detour along the river road, as I'd seen a couple of nice vistas on our way home the other day from a Fresno medical appointment.

I'm Still Waiting for the Pass Part of This Too Shall

One thing I can be grateful for at the moment is that spring is springing, the sun is coming out and the roads are drying out. The last post had me complaining about stress, and it's not over yet.

About a week and a half ago, my beloved husband had a heart attack, and luckily he got it taken care of early enough that it sure looks like all will be well. He spent a couple of days in the hospital, had a stent installed, and he's got a new sack of pills. First checkup yesterday found the cardiologist quite happy with progress so far. Hurrah. Do not be fooled if you think my tone just now is nonchalant, I stuck to his side like a limpet the entire time he was in the hospital.

Meanwhile, rumors are flying at work of an impending layoff. I suspect (worry?) I will be joining the ranks of the unemployed soon. The uncertainty isn't fun either.

Meanwhile, we have enjoyed a good wildflower/bird walk this last weekend, our first in a few weeks. We started a Monday night yoga class, which we both greatly enjoyed.