Meanwhile The World Goes On

I wrote a lovely thank you to y'all last night. And then Blogger ate it.

But the feelings, if not the post, remain. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your replies to my last post.

I do heed your comments and emails. I take your words to heart, not to scare you...

I often share with you before I do my flesh and blood friends.

Then fired up with courage, I dare to speak of lost love and broken hearts and just how bad a kisser that woman really was.

Laughter is the best medicine. And a spoonful of children and a puppy help the sad go away amazingly fast.

I still haven't heard back about the volunteering for T'day, but my dinner plans are set.

I'm going with Mr. Baby and his drivers/ caretakers to his great aunt's house. There will be 5 people I know and 15 I've never laid eyes on.

A perfect blend of something old and something new. Just what this first solo holiday cries out for.

And then the wave of Christmas work comes crashing down upon us and I will be swimming madly in a sea of sap and glitter and orders, listening to the same damn CD's we've been listening to for years.

I'm getting my ducks in line pre madness. Today I got a hair cut and blonded, tomorrow I get an MRI (like how I sneaked that one in?) for my rotater cuff.

Little Ms. Claustrophobia shudders even she writes those initials. Dear god, I already stared fear in the eye last month. I have to do it again?

What a year. And not a single friend has any time tomorrow to come with me. Even S-man is working a rare day shift.

Xanax will be my BF on this trip.

But it is an open MRI, so it shouldn't be quite as scary. Am I right? Has anyone ever had one?

Tell me quick. I have till 2:45 tomorrow to chicken out.

I'll take pictures.

xo Jane

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”
― Mary Oliver