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Life is But a Dream—or Maybe Just a Big Bowl of Soup

Nothing like the holidays to bring back memories of holidays past. Former lives within this life haunt me—so many moments and people that are now gone forever. They are real in my mind but elusive as a dream.

Life is so much more fluid than I ever knew. My mind keeps bumping into the people of the past as I cherish time spent with people of the present.

“Their souls are in the halls of my mind,” says Flash of his dearly departed. I know what he means. Continue reading “Life is But a Dream—or Maybe Just a Big Bowl of Soup”

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A Flash of Anger

So Flash and I got in our first fight.

Well, kind of. Sometime back in the spring he told me he couldn’t picture us ever arguing. “Quaint and sweet and totally unrealistic,” I thought while smiling coyly at him.

But he’s probably right. Even if I tried my best to raise his dander, I don’t think Flash would ever get in a yelling match with me.

He’s more of an “internalize it” kind of guy. Maybe that’s why I picked him.

In our 17-year relationship, Mike and I had a rich history of verbal battles that were mostly unproductive and emotionally draining. That man LOVED verbal duals, and they could become less than diplomatic in short order. Even though we agreed on almost every subject, we managed to fight often and loudly. One of Mike’s favorite things was to call talk radio hosts and argue with them on the air.

Fast-forward about seven months from Flash’s sweet comment. It’s holiday time. Add to that baseline stress, so far this December: Continue reading “A Flash of Anger”

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Slow Food and Fast Food, Love and Pain

Avery eats his first turkey leg. Photo by Flash
Avery eats his first turkey leg. Photo by Flash

Flash, CC, Marley, Avery and I celebrated Thanksgiving early this year—a potluck with friends. Somehow, I ended up cooking my very first turkey for the shindig. After two short years of cooking regular meals and 10 years of vegetarianism only recently ended, it seemed a daunting task. (Mike was such a fantastic cook, I was truly handicapped in the kitchen by the time he died in 2007. I rarely cooked a meal in the 17 years we were together.)

Since returning to my omnivorous roots back in February, I’ve been purchasing local, free range, antibiotic-free meat from a farmer that I met while on a photo assignment years ago. Vegetarian at the time, I made a mental note that if I ever were to purchase meat again, it would be from Charles Ritch of Goose Pond Farm.

And I’ve made good on that promise. Continue reading “Slow Food and Fast Food, Love and Pain”

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Patterns

So much has happened at The Okey Dokey Ranch in the past month, it is hard to know where to begin.

Suffice it to say, the long-awaited arrival of Flash has more or less taken place. He keeps saying things like “when I get here,” as if he hasn’t moved in yet.  (I don’t think he considers himself “here” until the house is arranged to his liking; we’re not there quite yet, I am told.) Yet it seems like he’s here to me.  Much of his stuff is here.  And he’s rearranged so much of our living space, I feel disoriented in my own home.  Yet grateful.  Things had gotten pretty chaotic around here.  And this guy has the perfect combination of obsession and organizational skills to tackle things like building shelving and rearranging furniture and CDs until things make more sense.  Continue reading “Patterns”

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Spirit phones and homegrown tomatoes

Sometimes malaise sneaks up on me, and other times it follows a more predictable path. As cliché as it might sound, today’s bout of blues definitely seems related to the fast-approaching 2nd anniversary of Mike’s death (Sept 13).

I’ve found no good way defend myself against the pain. It comes uninvited.

I am haunted by a past that is gone and a future that no longer exists. It began in the relative quiet of Labor Day after Flash, CC, and her kitten Casey departed from The Okey Dokey Ranch after spending a raucous and rainy but fun Saturday and Sunday here.

This afternoon, Marley went to Tannehill State Park with her friend Bella, which left me alone with Avery. The boy has been quite wild all weekend—a draining surprise after he acted disarmingly docile and charming Friday afternoon after school. By Monday afternoon I was, shall we say, finding it difficult to appreciate Avery being anywhere near me. I really just wanted to be alone with my thoughts. Continue reading “Spirit phones and homegrown tomatoes”