Well, THAT Was Epic!

2019 was a year of health ordeals, surgeries and recoveries (as uzsh). It was a year of being horrified by how just how low, obscenely rapacious, vilely disgusting and cruel our country has become. And it was a year of joyous new beginnings with Ten joining me here in Valhalla.

Ten visited from his high desert home last January This brought to mind the wise words of Balzac – solitude is fine but you need someone to tell that solitude is fine OR co-solitude is better.

Later that month I discovered that it’s very important, in this age of insanity, to keep a fine, creative stock of insults at the ready.

Jen and I went to our Silica Heaven (AKA Iceland) in February, not the uszh late autumn due to that rude, late 2018 bout of spine surgery. Before dipping into the rapturous waters, I had to have one last rant – just needed to get it outta my system.

In March I asked a few of my fellow scribblers why – Why Do We Blog?

ALSO, Ten and Donna’s excellent adventure went live! My wild squeeze moved from West to East coast to be with ME, ME, ME! Jen, Oni and Coco too. We are lucky ducks. Me especially!

Standout states along our 3,000+ mile journey:
Montana, my favorite apart from all the dead animals hanging out in the hotels. Apparently, NO hostelry is complete without half a dozen or so.

We left behind the evocative, intriguing and sometimes terribly amusing place names e.g.: Crazy Woman, Dead Horse and Wild Horse creeks, Devil's Tower, Reliance, SD and Keister, MN – I gotta wonder what the high school football team is nicknamed – The Fighting Butts? Are the cheerleaders and baton twirlers referred to as the Sparkling Assettes?

Minnesota – lurved me some Minnesota.

We had a grand art break while there, visited with my friend Susan and Ten’s grands.

Afterward we zoomed into the flat, dull as dirt states of Indiana and Ohio – the hardest part of our trans continental crossing. I expect there are pretty, if not striking or stunning parts, but ya just can’t prove that by me.

From there we were in the Valhalla homestretch, more or less – stopping in Western Pennsylvania to introduce Ten to Daddy and friend Michal.

And then, 3,259 miles and two and a half weeks later, we were home. Our adventure continues.

In late April I began my six months and counting eyeball saga, coming WAY too fucking close to having the old left orb sewn shut. Pretty sure I’m finally outta the deep, dark, smelly woods here – that I get to keep the eye thanks to my PROSE lens and my brill cornea minder, the fabola Doc Jacobs.

In May I had a few rants and, unrelated, came to the conclusion that forgetfulness is a form of freedom.

June saw grief anniversaries, frustration and anger with the ass twits for “god”  and, separately, generally, my happy luck.

I received some profoundly insulting, obtuse “advice” from an otherwise awesome friend in July. I cleaned out my camera phone – and found treasures. Also, for a half assed sec, I thought I’d run for Prez.

In August Ten and I motored up to Cindy and Giovanni’s blissfully bucolic farm in upstate Vermont – Valhalla North, Yurt Central and shit.

September brought a family emergency and the fervent wish for us all to be spared from the well meaning and dangerously clueless.

Be brave. Get to know yourself so well that folks aren’t left saying, in an attempt to speak something nice “she could fuck up a peanut butter sandwich on white bread but she means well.”

Our original October plan had been to once again motor up to Valhalla North – do a little leaf peeping and socializing. September’s events, however, left us flat out knackered (flat broke too) so we made do with a coupla cool visits to Townsend – home of my best childhood memories.

And then I, temporarily, turned into a unicorn/centaur.

In November I inadvertently found out that one of the meningiomas in ma tête is now the size of steroidially enhanced eggplant. Joy. More surgery comin’ up.

December rounded the corner and, once again, I had cause to be blindingly grateful and thrilled with my new cornea minder.

And Jen and I got to return to the land of ice and snow where decompensation, (body AND brain sick of working overtime to make up for that fat, eggplant in ma bean) moved in fer realies and trulies. I honestly felt like I’d started my journey on the road to death. Not imminently and shit – I’d make it home to Ten and Coco – but I felt as though final chapters were being written. Too fast.

I had Doc Plotkin’s little green, not-magic-but-close-enough, pills AND the brill calming waters of my geothermal lagoon. If yur bod’s gonna shit the bed, well, is there a better place for it?

And that was the year that wuz.