It's 6:00 AM Pacific. This is my first Wednesday diary in two months and my last for another three -- spring break and at 7 PM tonight I'll be all packed and fed and ready to host a diary. But about what? I had some commitments last week: the usual every other week Thursday Classical Music (I know what the next one will be), the usual US to 1865 (no diary this week, I have the next one figured out -- incidentally the poll on that ended up in a tie between Fri 4PM and Sat 6AM), the one-time for the Okiciyap Quilt Auction/Fundraiser (because it turns out I'm a NAME), the semi-regular meet-up photo diary for LA Kossacks, a couple of diaries I promised myself (for Remembering LGBT History) and other people (the Will Allen diary), and a couple of diary-me issues: on DOMA and on marriage equality on the op-ed page of the New York Times. I can't be written out, can I?
Well, of course not. ME? Not at all. But so you won't think this is a bait-and-switch diary I'll indicate ABOVE the great orange wreath that this is an update as the fifth month of my bereavement begins, and that all the above activity may have been a way of avoiding that.
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Yes. People who have been through this before know that for a while - QUITE a while - the day of the month when your loved one died is an issue. EVERY month. I think I actually knew that last month and I think I announced that to both of my Tuesday classes as I was being even more incompetent than usual setting up the projector. Maybe just the 7 PM class. Anyway, yes. At least this month I have a terrific alternative activity set up: a trip to the Dutch Masters exhibit at the DeYoung Museum in San Francisco with a -- well, "friend" is such a weak word in some circumstances --and then lunch with another fairly visible Kossack who, somehow, neither of us have met yet. I KNOW all that will make me very happy.
So okay. I promised an update. Teaching is indeed therapeutic, and no matter how bad or down or whatever I feel before I go into a classroom is immediately dissipated by the fact that here I am again doing something that I love doing. The diary-fest of last week began while I was still teaching, in fact, because on Tuesday when I don't have to leave for class until 1 PM I can certainly knock off a meet-up diary. Seriously, the DKos photo editor works great. Upload the images from the camera. Find them in the download file and upload them to the diary. Embed them in the order they should be in and then cut and paste them from the top edit box to the bottom edit box. Then caption. The Thursday and Friday diaries are part of my regular schedule, and the others figured to take up some of the slack I use for course prep. They didn't. The bomb diary, well, I thought I'd use this space for a, let's say, clarification, but I've started to reread the material on the Enola Gay controversy. What you can expect NEXT Friday (4/12) is something along the lines of my discussing homelessness and homeless people diary only not as gentle, because I can tie it in with Joe McCarthy.
So yes, involvement in work is good. Around the house, the laundry is fine and the dishwasher is my friend, but I'm getting bored with my own cooking -- pasta with stuff, rice with stuff. Yes, I know I should be doing a LOT more with my local Farmer's Markets, and as soon as I get all the recipes I've printed out sorted and filed, I will. Actually, that's not so bad because the next Farmer's Market opportunity is realistically 4/14, and I still haven't used up all the proteins Jim left in the freezer. NO, I'm not making it a memorial freezer. Certainly not.
The rest of the cleaning is another story. The lightweight stick vacuum cleaner we bought in September because the big upright vacuum cleaner that came with the apartment was too much for Jim to handle broke Saturday and it's out with the trash now. I think the big vacuum still works. I'm not entertaining any time soon, so the counter tops get cleaned when cleaning them will make a difference how they look. Same with the bathtub. I guess I should pick a day for that, but why bother.
I also need to be more active in making contact with the Kossack friends I'm making down here. I especially have to get over thinking I'll be an intrusion. It's the whole only child thing again, I think (I am one, and so was my mother, and that magnified the effect). On the other hand, I know that if I decide I don't want to leave the apartment a couple of days a month it's probably not something I should worry about, especially if I'm cleaning or cooking. As far as grief meetings go, not for me yet. The one I thought I would go to here conflicted badly with my Tuesday classes. Even here there are issues. I didn't read the fine print closely enough in The Grieving Room's discussion of its mission and the reason I'm doing this here and NOT there on April 1 as I was supposed to was that I went ballistic about a pet diary on the 25th and resigned from the group over it. Yes, I HAVE lost a pet. You know what? 41 years is what. It's different.
And, as you saw Wednesday in my diary about my personal encounter with DOMA, I'm now at the point where I can talk about stuff like that easily. If anything, I think I'm ahead of the -- yes, I KNOW it's different for everyone -- schedule, or, I guess what I'm really saying is that I have fewer other things to worry about than Joan Didion did in The Year of Magical Thinking.
Now to pack, which calls for some ironing, and to have dinner, and to load the comments, the mojo, and the pictures. By the way, have you seen the new ads in diaries? Shouldn't we have been told? Were we told? It's not really that disruptive and you can tell what's really clickable and what's an ad (the ads are underlined), but still . . .
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