Vague Excuses…

February totally blew.

Yesterday, Fredman emailed me and asked me where the hell my blog updates have been. I replied that I could say the same for her, and thank you very much, I’ve been swamped at work with a research project for one of the political desk editors. So she writes back and says that first she had two weeks of flu, and now some other damn medical thing going on. I replied, WTF? (basically) and she reminded me that (a) she’s old and (b) not part of a household that includes a goddess that can heal pretty much anything and (c) she’s old.

Well, sucks to be her. And me, too, for that matter, recently. See, all of us except Alex had the damn flu in February for almost three weeks—that’s what you get for sleeping in a great lump with a bunch of other people. *cough* And then of course the children, little disease vectors that they are, brought it home with them from kindergarten. Yay! Little snotty faces that want to kiss Uncle Trent! Kissy-kissy-achoo!

Did I say that we live with a goddess that can heal? Well, apparently Dolores, like every other powerful being we’ve run into, doesn’t think that pain and suffering are a bad thing. What is it with them? I mean, we even called Ariolas, and that damned Elf mage (and Carol’s grandfather) just laughed at us. Dolores had said that we probably needed a break and NyQuil works great when combined with rest. You wouldn’t believe what Jimmy (who had it the worst) said about that. And he was coughing the entire time, too. I didn’t know he could string together that many colorful words! He didn’t say any of that to Dolores’ face, but she sort of knows, anyhow, being herself and all, and connected to us.

Alex was spared, via Sorrows, since she usually keeps the sword-bearer available for guarding us. He felt terrible about that, and bumbled around in the kitchen making chicken soup, over and over. Dolores and I took turns supervising, since Alex tends to forget about boiling pots and frying pans if something shiny passes by him. How someone so smart can be such an idiot in the kitchen, I don’t know. He says it’s because he’s never been fascinated by chemistry. Again, WTF? This is about attention, dude! Well, we managed to keep him on task (even if I was nodding off half the time, thanks to the NyQuil), and the chicken soup was actually edible. I managed to get him to NOT put rosemary into it. He thinks rosemary is pretty, and forgets that it’s nearly too strong to eat as far as most of us are concerned. He doesn’t even like the flavor! OK, I’m going to go punch him, just because

Back again. And yeah, he just laughed at me when I pounded him on the arm. It was that silly laugh that’s so cute, so I smacked him in the chest, which made him laugh even harder. I feel better, at least.

Anyhow. And then March came and with it this project at work. And the weather’s been hot-cold-hot-cold, so we’re all confused. Kerry gives up on winter on March 1st most years, and wears flipflops around the estate even if it’s freezing out. He regretted that when he went to get the mail and papers a time or two. Like Alex, Kerry’s pretty bullet-proof, but he regressed to shearling moccasins after that.

I asked Dolores about the “pain and suffering are OK” thing—not for the first time, mind you. Now, Dolores is not an omniscient or omnipotent sort of goddess, which I hope you’ve understood from the (still unfinished) conversation between Carol and her. She’s powerful, but not all-powerful. She suffers, too. But she’s got an inhumanly long memory and that changes your point of view a lot. I agree with her that pain is a great director for us short-lived. It helps us know what to do and what not to do to stay alive. Suffering teaches us about consequences. But sometimes, shit happens. In the abstract, I agree that it’s not what happens to you when the random fewmets hit the windmill, but how you respond to it that matters. In the short term, it’s pretty obvious why Advil was invented, and why psychiatric therapy is not a bad thing.

“Look at a waving field of flowers,” she said. “If a goat steps on some or eats others, is that a tragedy? Perhaps from the flowers’ point of view. And we, all of us, are a beautiful field of flowers that the Creator made from Itself. It is us. It is experiencing time and space through all of us. To the One, not even the most terrible tragedies have the same impact. They are all part of the marvelous play of consciousness.”

Philosophy can be a thin blanket on a cold winter’s day, can’t it? Still, it helps a little. Maybe. Maybe I’ll just hope that March coming in like a lion doesn’t auger for more blowage! Wish us luck, and let us know how your February went.

*   *   *

And… Holy Carplets, it’s nearly the end of April. What happened? Er…well…I’ll have to make up something. But basically, more of March happened. It was unromantic and way too much work for yours truly. The gang has been wondering if I left them to sleep at the office.

And I keep kicking over Fredman’s anthill in my copious spare time *cough*. She says she’s wrestling with the Book 2 rewrite, since her standards are much higher than when she first wrote it about six years ago. You should see the freaking diagrams she’s drawing to figure things out. On the other hand, you don’t want to. I just say, hey, this is how we lived through it. That particular month of July, 2007 ALSO blew, especially for Kerry and Alex.

Here’s hoping for more forward movement in May!