kvetching up

I have opted over these many years to build an insular world, one that extended only to immediate family, and in a more granular sense an interior space of only me--for all of us I suppose this is the case. Even when home, if not with my kids, much of my time has been spent in my head with music. As I am sure I have written about before, I suppose because of my mom's influence and the era I grew up in, singer songwriters have been everything. From Cole Porter to the Carter Family, Lucinda Williams to Led Zeppelin, Mary Black to Mazzy Star, and on and on, I have lived in my head their music and lyrics wrapped around my thoughts, and providing structure to my memories. Nancy Griffith died (of cancer) during the COVID epidemic, as did John Prine (he of COVID after a battle with cancer). I discovered both during the early years Jenny and I were together. Around that same time I discovered Kate Wolf's work at a boheme apartment Jenny was housesitting at right next to the Safeway I u...

 Entry 1     6:11 a.m. Dogs are whining. I'm drinking yesterday's coffee--still warm in the Back when Buddy  had a little Marlon Brando flair. decanter--trying to have a few moments of peace in the dark.  I love these dogs. Yesterday, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, they slept until 8:20. It truly is the season of magic. They would have slept longer today if my bladder hadn't forced me out of bed after being awake for an hour fighting the urge to get up. Christmas tree  shopping today. This should be fun. I am sad Leiney won't be with us for the first time in 18 years, as we pick out a tree. She has to work. But the days of The Santa Train, Santa's lap and handwritten letters to Santa are consigned to the black hole of remembering now. There is something powerful about being alone, awake in the wee small hours of the morning , Crate mates. sitting in the dark. I felt it as a kid, when I would go out each morning at 4 a.m. to deliver the PI and...