Shaken, Not Stirred

In fact, I know she does.

Gin martinis, over ice.  Two olives.

And leave the shaker to James Bond because that wasn't her style.  Instead she preferred a few olive-skewered toothpick swirls to swish in that dry vermouth.  Every day, a well deserved reward for a well lived life, a stubborn indulgence that went without compromise.  Classy, classic - perhaps the drink describes the person drinking it more than we think.

I have two cats named Olive and Gin, and it makes me smile.  I think it would make her smile too.

I miss her.

Am I the only one who before going away on a trip, gets that queasy feeling?  Just a general unrest that doesn't completely go away until a couple days after returning to the security of home?

Yeah, I've got that now and I'm not even traveling anywhere.  Too much on my mind and too many reminders.  Sigh.

Next week.  Next week will be better.

In the meantime, maybe I just need a martini.

Strategically Grateful...

Of all the things to be grateful for, someone surviving the unimaginable is right there at the top.

Every night on the news there's stories of people who are affected by tragedy, heartbreak and devastation.  At times, it's hard to watch simply because there is more bad news than good.  However when you recognize the name, recognize the face that flashes across the screen in association with one of those stories, it takes on a different light.  It's real.

Even if you expect it, your stomach drops, your mouth gets dry, you hold your breath when the reporter speaks.

Yeah, bad stuff happens, but it isn't supposed to happen to people you know.  It's not supposed to happen to people you respect, people you see every day, to good people who you have come to consider extended family - simply because that's the way they welcomed you to that family.

But unfortunately, it can happen.

It does happen.

Strength isn't something you do, it's something you are, and it's something I've seen a lot of lately.

"Normal" has taken on a new definition because as we proceed, things aren't normal, but we continue as best we can.  A ship without its Captain, we're a loyal crew with as much determination and perseverance for the whole as we do for each other and we'll trudge on until the Captain can return to the helm.  Why?  Because we have faith he will.

So to hear that this person who survived the unimaginable will heading home after over a month in the hospital?  I'm ecstatic.  I'm over the moon.  I'm so damn grateful he's a freaking superhero (really, there's just no other explanation - bit by a spider, mad scientist experiment gone wrong - there is obviously some greater power at work here, insert your own opinion here).

Home is a huge step in the right direction.  It's easier to heal from anything when back on home turf.  Things may be different, from behavior and aesthetics, to the day-to-day and the way you're regarded, but it's still easier.  Familiarity helps.  Normality helps.  Honest.  I know from experience.

Life goes on whether we want it to or not, no matter where that constantly redefined path leads.  Some days are going to be tougher than others - for everyone - in one way or another, but today... today I'm grateful, for a lot of things.

Especially for superheroes.

Wallflower

I've got a lot on my mind these days, and I’m combating it with pure determination but I can't help but think of the consequences. 

I’m throwing myself that much more intently into my work – so much so that I've actually lost count of how many projects I've churned out so far this month.  My to-do list has become a daily thing instead of weekly, a check-list that I bounce around more than a steel ball in a pinball machine.  I've got enough on my plate that it’s hard to prioritize, but gratifying when progress is made and things get completed.

Outside of work (and my non-work-work), writing has been the best escape.  It’s the best way I've found to stop thinking about… well, pretty much everything that is just going to add to any alleged gray hairs I may or may not have.  All I have to do is start reading through where I left off and instead of worrying about “this, that and the other thing” it becomes “hey, what if this happened...” and I’m off on a new wild tangent, telling a story to some far distant future reader who may or may not be listening. 

Over the last couple months, this impulse has led me 28,207 words into my latest story.  (I apologize to the other 3-4 in-progress works gathering dust during this process – I can’t be blamed for inspiration leads me.)

It’s a distraction, and a good one at that.  

If it's not one thing, it's another, but I certainly try and be optimistic.  Think a little less, do a little more, and not let my ever reliable comfort zone turn me into more of a wallflower than I already am.  

That's not too tall of an order, is it?