kvetching up

  A proud heart can survive a general failure because such a failure does not prick its pride. It is more difficult and more bitter when a man fails alone.” ― Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart   The tree on the right side of the fence --Did it fall of its own weight? Abby came home night before last, her plane arriving around 1 a.m. I was so ecstatic in anticipation on Thursday that my joy spilled over so much at work that people noticed. On the drive to and from the airport, a slushy rain was falling. I was fairly convinced that would be the extent of it. I hate snow and the cold, if you didn't know, so  I was relieved that this was all coming to an end. I woke up to this beautiful mess yesterday. The plum trees in the foreground had bloomed this week and had been absolutely gorgeous. I presume that two of the three won't fruit this year--which is fine. I  am certain the third one, the tree on the right side of the fence and closest to t...

Hell - Hieronymus Bosch   Weekend Jam I fell again this morning--thanks inner ear crystals! In the beautiful series of events that comprise my life, I had terrible abdominal cramps last night that led me to going downstairs and laying across an ottoman just after 9, trying to find relief.  My torso covered the ottoman, my head bent down over its front, my knees bent on the floor at the other end.  Its a fucking freezer down there.  Nevertheless, I fell asleep while reading about CA 19-9, maintaining that awkward position for two hours.  Jenny, came to check on me around 11, as she and Kim were going to bed.  I woke briefly, intending on going back upstairs, yeah--not so much.   At 3:15 a.m., I woke again.  It was so cold, cold enough I should have checked for hoar frost on my chin.  I didn't.  It was my first mistake.  The second mistake? I tried to stand up.  Silly me.  I fell like Tommy Hearns connecting with a Tyso...

Well, I'm livin' in a foreign country but I'm bound to cross the line Beauty walks a razor's edge, someday I'll make it mine If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born "Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm " -Bob Dylan Friday I am 10 minutes from the start of the work day. I can't get 3427.8 out of my mind. Two weeks ago her CA 19-9 was startlingly high at 2349.4, a slight increase from the February 25 measure of 2321.5, which was more than double the 939.9 two weeks prior to that. I am worried. Numbers trending up like this generally mean the tumor is growing. 0-36 is the normal range for this marker. So, fuck. Jenny hasn't checked the number, and I promised if I looked I wouldn't tell her. So, I haven't. Won't. I imagine she will look today at some point, as noted earlier, we all gaze into the abyss. It's in our nature. This is a slow-motion train wreck. Stage IV Prog...

I hate snow I hate snow.  My mom certainly taught me that.  I didn't understand it until I started driving.  Even then, I loved snow, I just hated the driving.   When Jenny and I were first dating--during the massive blizzard of December 1990--I loved the snow. I remember walking in a literal blizzard with my BoSox hat on at 45th and Roosevelt. Near whiteout conditions, a gusting wind blew my hat into the intersection, and the wind chill keeping the temperature in the single digits didn't stop me from walking to a date at the Last Exit,to drink mocha floats and then later making snow angels, the two of us basking in the bloom of new love. That was then.  I have, upon reflection, hated the snow since the kids were little.  I hate the cold.  It just fucks with my life too much.   After my mom died, a snowstorm came which forced us to cancel her memorial service.  I had scheduled it to take place at a Unitarian Church in North Seattle...