Time Warp Times Two

One
So I return home from Santa Clara, and open the fridge to crack a brew. Nothing had changed in there in the five days I had been gone--nothing. Same amount of milk in the gallon jug. Yogurt containers, luncheon meat, tortillas, all remained as I had arranged them straight from the grocery bag before I departed. Same leftover roasted veggies on the top shelf (well, that makes sense--M's not a leftover eater, and I was grateful--it was a lovely quick dindin that night). How eating take-out food when not on the road is possible is beyond me. But that's M. He's a world-class connoisseur of the microwaved burrito, and he can grill with the best of 'em when we entertain, but cooking for himself is just not an option.

Two
For months--months, oy--I've had a number of boxes piled in my craft room, filled with the flotsam of my past, mostly letters and photos. I decided to liberate them from the rafters in the garage, and the dangers posed by starving, crapping, birthing feral cats, heat, moisture, and marauding spiders. It's not much, come to think of it, considering how old I am. But I can pare it down. For instance, there was this card:

Sweetest of hearts, sister-in-spirit, Suzanne--I have adored walking beside your ths past year as we have labored together, birthing our new selves, on this road less travelled. I wish us years more sisterly secrets, girlish good times, and glorious celebration of our mutually strong, tender woman-ness
--Loving you, Ja-Ja

Who the hell is Ja-Ja?? It's been driving me crazy. I also found an article on an acquaintance of mine from that time period, Alan Ball, where he mentions a friend of his who was also my therapist very briefly (who really helped with a brewing eating disorder). Her name was Janet. Could that have been Ja-Ja? God, I hope so.

This life excavation is supposed to help with the writing of my novel, set in the late '70s, but it's having a chilling effect instead. When I read my high school English journal, my diary, and lame attempts at creative writing, I cringe. It hardly makes me want to delve into that part of my life all over again...

Rex in the Tub
Originally uploaded by suzipaw.

Happy birthday to Rex! Our little black and tan mutt turns 28 (in dog years) on Halloween.



A third time warp? The clock falls back a hour tonight. We just returned from a march up the hill, admiring the last orange light limning the fog hovering over Sebastopol and beyond. It reminded me of when I was just a wee suburbanite in San Bernardino, begging Mom to drive me to the top of an undeveloped hill where I could ooh and aww over the lights sprawling below us. I'm going to miss the later sunsets.