Don't Know What to Call This One.

I've seen the same dog twice on Alberta Street over the last week or so. He looks like a pitbull-something else-mix (he has black and white patches) and both times he's dashed across the street, in front of the car in front of me. Both times he's made it safely to the sidewalk, and he just huffs and puffs along his way. I was filled with sadness on these occasions. How many times will this dog dash across the street and not get hit? Is he homeless? Is there nothing to worry about and he's just really good at crossing streets?

Mom and I saw Patty Griffin in concert last night. She played many songs I needed to hear (although I'm still waiting for "Blue Sky"). The highlight for me was hearing "I Don't Ever Give Up," which is one of my songs of the moment. This weekend has been both draining and healing. And I don't mean draining in the bad way. It's more like my heart has decided--with my mind and body's help--to fight the good fight and let in all these things I'm feeling about the Tale of the Broken-Hearted. There's so much to feel. Some of these feelings, in fact, are new to me -- so foreign (forgotten?) that I just don't know what to do with them quite yet.

I'm working on a new poem. It's partly inspired by my family, and partly by the events of the last week (and lots more, too). When I share it at the Spring Fling I don't think it will be finished yet, but I'm willing to share this draft. Speaking of writing, I do hope that B decides to read ATTS someday. Maybe that will help us both heal things a little bit. B is one of the best huggers I have ever met, and I know those hugs--to others and himself--are worth more than words could ever say.

The last few days have involved: walks with Ollie; taking Ollie to the dog park and letting him run around like a maniac; sleeping in; going to Dwight's parents' 50th wedding anniversary with Karla (the cupcake helium balloon snagged in the tree....a slide show with Dwight sitting on Santa Claus's lap and smiling for the camera....hugging Nancy and Clinton....hugging Karla); bringing out my inner Drama Student to play the part of the scarecrow (yep, from The Wizard of Oz) for the Our House charity auction on Saturday night (older gents telling me I "make a really good scarecrow," wink, wink....James being sweet and trying to find me breath mints....lots of hugs....working up the courage to go onstage in front of hundreds of people and parade the auction items around like some twisted version of Vanna White).

I am blessed to live in a world where my friends give me purple-coated Voodoo Donuts for comfort; where planting seeds (literally, from Tori's Beekeeper package) has never felt so good, the way the soil works with my fingers to make things happen; where even in Sadness there is no black-and-white....because even though the ambiguity of feelings and emotions and angles on things is frustrating--well, that's certainly the understatement of the new millenium--there is also a lovely comfort in knowing part of that gray area comes from Love, Hope, Friendship, those qualities that don't get crushed. Those qualities that are real and that make everyone involved know that they will be okay, the others will be okay, and in the space in-between there are wishes of health and wellness. That's where I'm at right now.