Nature Girl

In spite of what follows, I am not depressed. Nor do I feel overwhelmed or unable to handle the circumstances of my life. My life is what it is and I have it under control. I am sad, that's all.

A friend of mine killed himself Friday night. It was a huge surprise to everyone who knew him (as a friend--probably not to his wife and kids). He was at home, fixing his furnace with friends, went to the garage and shot himself. Of course everyone in the neighborhood has an idea about why he did it. Cocaine. Wife having an affair. Antidepressents mixed with alcohol. Seeing a psychiatrist, depressed. the list goes on. Whatever it was, I'm sorry he did it. He was a nice man and we always shared stories about his beagle Boomer. His obituary mentions his "special friend" Boomer.

Obituaries here are really strange/funny. Do other regions mention dogs as "special friends?" or say that the person enjoyed playing solitaire, or hummed a lot to herself, or laughed at the funnies, or crocheted booties better than anyone else? It's hard not to laugh at these. Bill, Fred and I long ago decided we would write our own obituaries. I do not want my "special friends" Tess and Chances mentioned in my obit, nor do I want it said that I enjoyed lying on my couch watching television or that I was know for having a messy house or that I never weeded my garden or that I was famous for getting my car stuck in the snow.

So. Ricky's suicide has been on my mind all weekend, saddens me, puzzles me, makes me think about people who commit suicide. I had a friend in Rockford who drove herself into her garage and inhaled carbon monoxide, but she'd been depressed pretty much all her life.
Anyway, Bill and I agreed, as always, that suicide is the most selfish and rudest act of all. Enough about that.

The other thing I have accepted and am pretty much used to is that I still have no water. This is week #3 and I have developed a good routine for dealing with it. Luckily I come to work 5 days a week--fill up water jugs, wash face, etc. And I get water from Ken (he doesn't like it when I shower there so I rarely do). I have a great friend B. who has invited me to shower at her house any time, any day. I had the best visit with her family last week. Her children are just wonderful, I adore them and they feel comfortable and relaxed with me. I can't believe they are old enough to be engaged and own a truck, but children do grow up.

The cause of the water problem is unknown (or, I assure you I would have water). I tried to look in the well to see if had any water in it, or if there were ice chunks blocking the foot valve. The the well cap is frozen solid on and I can't get it off, in spite of much boiling water and torching. I quit that project. The pump has lost its prime (this means pouring 14 gallons of water, about a tablespoon at a time, down a pipe about 100 feet to the well from the house) but I don't know why. I can't stand to make someone else deal with this so here I am. Steve (Ken's caregiver), who is a contractor and knows how to do just about anything, has offered to help. Last night I said I would accept his offer "when the weather breaks." That's vague enough, no? Yes, I'll get to it. It's just so unpleasant a task. Plus my house has been in such disarray that no one could walk to the cellar. I cleaned this weekend (just because you have no water doesn't mean you have to LIVE as if you have no water). I feel much better but there is more to do.

I can't complain about the weather because everyone has had subzero temps. This winter my house refuses to warm up. Friday morning it was cold, Sat. better, Sun. almost warm. Last night it was 67 and I almost opened the door to cool it off. Ken's house is 88-90 degrees and Steve and I sweat and suffocate and sneak the door open whenever Ken goes to the bathroom.
I have good wood and plenty of it this year, and am much more responsible about taking armloads into the house every time I go outside. A grown up! I'm acting like a grown up!

Today I will think about something amazing and wonderful but I am fearful that this wonderful man will never have a chance to be President. I have no faith in the Secret Service or the 25,000 law enforcement people there. I watched the pre-inaugural party, mostly to see Springsteen and U2 and to hear Obama's speech. He's amazing. Pete Seeger was there to lead everyone singing This Land is Your Land. He's very, very old. This made me feel old and sad. Anyway, Obama was wonderful, as always, and inspiring. It was funny when the singers kept telling the crowd to STAND UP! because that's what the thousands packed in there were doing--they had no choice.

Even the Starbucks girl is thrilled and will watch the inaug. with friends. We are having a luncheon here and have permission to watch it. I'd rather watch it alone at home but I decided to risk it and watch here. I'm afraid I'll get teary. For many reasons. I can't find it in me to be proud of my country for electing this man. I'm proud of this man for convincing people to vote for him. I still know people who will not watch, who are not pleased, who have grave misgivings, who don't want the country run by the NAACP.

Leroy the fish got stuck between the pump and the side of the tank this morning. I thought he was dead, but he survived. How long had he been like that? When will he die? He is a miracle fish, and fat and greedy like his namesake.

Authority work awaits. And cataloging. Like, the DVD Yummy in my Tummy.

I'm tired of hearing that "history is being made." It's not history to me, it's just what should be happening. The front page of our local paper is all black, with a giant picture of Obama in the middle. My friend Patty said "Think they're sending a message or something?"