Newscoma

I stood in the rain with a lot of like-minded people last night in Memphis. Left Wing Cracker’s schnauzer let me play with her after letting a standard-sized poodle named Francois have whatfor.

I like that dog.

We talked politics. We discussed grilled meat (six dozen brats were cooked. That’s a hell of a lot of brats.) I ate the best sauerkraut I’ve ever tasted. Hugs were given. Hugs were received.

I was told repeatedly that things were going to be okay. I also realized with friends, well, they are in it with you.

There was encouragement that was greatly needed. There were scotch eggs that I enjoyed. There were faces I knew, and new ones that I met.

It rained so hard that I stood talking to a local politician and we just let the skies overflow beat down on us. We laughed.

Sometimes, despite the rain, you just let it wash over you. It’s best to laugh. We will never be this young again.

And we looked at opportunities for a better tomorrow, which is today.

I am smitten with my blogger friends. They know the right time to give me a hug. They know the right things to say.

Later, I will go to the Blue Monkey and eat bisque and drink mimosas.

It’s not always easy, my friends, but life isn’t too bad.

Not in the least.

The baggage, born from my Southern upbringing, follows me with every step and breath I take. It is filled with magic and dark elements, of a life lived and yet to live.

Of dirty nasty things as well as small boxes of live and a life lived, this trunk that goes with me everywhere I go.

I am constantly confounded how it is chained to me, to who I am. I stare at it warily, wondering if there is a way to leave it in the closet when I leave for the day to another eight hours of work, where I try, and often fail, to make a difference.

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Just a little personal weirdness for you:

The Bad:

• Broke a molar that hurts like nobody’s business. Dentist appointment, sometime next summer.
• Car wouldn’t start.
• A good friend, and my former boss, who I think very highly of had a heart attack.
• We won’t get into what’s going on in the newspaper industry.
• Had my site hacked.
• Thought I had my house sold recently and realized that this economy had a different plan.
• And the worse one, even worse than the ones above is that Homer was told by her optometrist that her left eye was “a pretty decoration” which means she has lost most of the sight in it. This started in childhood, but she’s still my little sister and I had to go off and grieve for her. If you want to know what it feels like not to be able to do anything, there is a feeling of powerlessness when you know that you can’t fix something, especially when it involves someone you love.

Now for the good stuff:

• I realized I have a lot of dear people who have expressed so much kindness in my non-virtual life and in my cyber world that I am utterly humbled.
• I strung pork rinds for a Redneck Christmas Tree.
• I shopped a little bit yesterday and got a few Christmas presents by myself which was rather cathartic then went to the local pub (once again, by myself), watched the SEC game (my team lost) and had a nice dinner with Squirrel Queen who I met up with later.
• Went and looked at the new Art Co-op here and saw my friends Badger Beth and EditorBates’s artwork hanging in the gallery. It made me so proud of them and I actually am so impressed with their talent that I just sort of held my breath in awe.
• Watched horror movies and then the Trailer Park Boys’ movie, which made me love their television show even more. (Go Bubbles.)
• Homer still has sight in her right eye and is wearing contacts for the first time in years. She looks beautiful.
• Ate a homemade corndog that was just about the greatest thing I’ve ever eaten.
• Saw my niece play very aggressive basketball and when she did a hard foul, I stood up and cheered. When the girl from the other team missed the foul shots, I cheered some more. This is why I’m not allowed at my nieces’ games. Stay classy, Newscoma.
• Realized that if it were a different world, I’d just follow James Lipton around and not speak. I’d just listen.
• Stole Homer a homemade cookie from a hospitality room. She dropped it, wiped it off and ate it anyway and we laughed our butts off at the local gymnasium.

Life is how you look at it. It’s a matter of seeing the good and the bad.

Now for the Mabel:

The air is chewy these days.

Within moments of stepping outside, I find myself covered in sweat and breathing is amazing and labored. The sky is thick with the humidity of the South. As Squirrel Queen and I were headed out to enjoy the Monday of our staycation, the tire on the truck was flat. We changed it, SQ rather as I fetched things as is my role in situations like this, and we were wet, our skin clammy from the heat.

We were headed to play darts. It’s become a special thing between us in the last couple of weeks. We keep seeking the best place to play, away from the issues of the day. We aren’t good but we are getting better. We’ve also found in our dartplay that it creates a bubble where we don’t have to talk to other people. If that sounds rude, I’m sorry, but it’s true. We play the game and we don’t have to answer questions. We laugh. We encourage each other.

Life is about transformation. I’ve been spending more time with Homer which is wonderful. In the mornings, we are watching Angel although I’ve seen it. It’s a quiet bond where we can lose ourselves for a little while.

When I was younger, I used to collect things. Now I wish to unburden myself with the things that I thought I had to have. My life is simpler now. I realized in a moment of epiphany over the weekend that I haven’t lived in the moment for awhile. Always living in “what would happen next.”

I’m sure a lot of this has to do with Stew’s death. Sometimes I miss him so much that I choke back tears.

What a waste of living in events that might happen and not seeing the world around you at the moment. The dart games have taught me this. One throw of the dart, then another. Some games you win. Some games your strategy works. Other times you are just slinging darts hoping for the best, relying on luck that you might come out ahead.

Life is like a dart game.

I was hot last night and I’m starting to hit the numbers I’m aiming at. It feels good seeing I’m getting better. I came home and made a salad made with what we bought at the Farmer’s Market and heated up some corn. I ate the salad with my fingers, the balsamic vinegar making my fingers oily. My niece talked about playing basketball while I cut the vegetables.

In the moment. We forget in the moment.

I don’t want to wish my life away.

I watched sharks biting people. It was graphic.

Random thoughts swirl through my mind.

I ask Squirrel Queen if we can play darts again. She smiled before she fell asleep.