Still crazy, but Here again

After nearly six months, it is a little strange to be trying to find a compelling story, something to lure readers back.  On the other hand, I could simply blast from the heart and hope for the best.  When I wrote in July I was hoping that I was better, but I was mistaken.  I had just a bit more uck to endure in a downward direction before my spinal degeneration decided "Okay. We're done for now. We think we'll stay here for a while."  At that point I could begin the process of learning how to live with what I have.

What do I have? Two legs that do not fully function, but which require entirely different nerve paths to get them going. So if I switch signals to the wrong leg, well, I stand in one position looking most confused. Or, sometimes, I move in a circle around my left leg, the one with the most recent problems. I look like a dancing, gallumphing bear ambling in a circle. Fortunately, the ludicrousy of the situation makes me laugh and laughing often releases whatever's blocking the signal from my brain to the leg. I DO laugh, but it is confusing and it is difficult.  It is also inordinately painful, this latest jog downward.

It takes time to adjust to intense pain and to learning to walk AGAIN. It would appear that, for the third time in my life, I'm about 11-13 months, learning to walk, to stand up straight unassisted. Running? Not so much. But I will take standing and walking slowly.

My house did not sell, so it's off the market for a few months again.  I am still awaiting my disability hearing, but we have a date: December 2nd. I have no income, but I have something better. Friends who are family. LIke a magic pitcher, just as there is nothing left in the account, money appears. Sometimes I earn it from tutoring, but mostly a friend comes through where family says "no." My family. I tutor, however, and I paint. I haven't written because, until the last couple of weeks, the voices that urge me to turn to this blog have been silent.

I have been afraid there is nothing to say that would touch the hearts of anyone.  Afraid I was a whiner. Afraid that I am a bore. Blah, blah, blah. Fear is such a bore, you know?  I have so many tales of childhood left to tell, of my brother and me, Robin Hood and Maid Marion, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Adventures in a Japanese garden, making statues for black and white posterity. The mountains that never talked back; they listened.  Innocence destroyed, while innocence remained untouched. A mother who won and lost her daily battles with demons that had no name, who threw rainbows while hurling wordswords. Pickalily Dinasewer. The girls of the island.


I don't know. I Know there are tales in my head still waiting to leap out and dance, and perhaps it's time to let them invent themselves, here. Where it's safe. Thank you to those who still check. For tonight, it's just about coming back and trying to put some words on virtual paper. I have not tried in so long.

The future is so uncertain, but I think it may be uncertain even when we think otherwise. I think my life has been the living illustration of the value of plan B... of being flexible, of rolling with the changing landscape. I have planned and had the plan changed in a moment. I have been committed to a course of action only to have the path blown up so suddenly there was no time to plan again. I simply reacted to remain breathing. And often that worked out better than the plan. I look at my life and want to do something with it; I think it HAS been more colorful than many. I think there are lessons in the living, as long as I do not preach the lessons, but rather simply tell the tale.

We'll see. This is where I do it. Where I write the past on one blog, and the newest journey on the other--though they intersect.

That's all for now. I am allowed half hour sessions and no more. I Look forward to reading the blogs I left behind. I look forward to continuing to learn to walk, and take in these new lessons as a child. Happy November, my blogging friends.