Mornings are my favorite.  When I write, that is.  What began as my first blog entry on April 5thhas now become my most reliable practice of self-soothing.  Mind you, I don’t always feel soothed to write some of the angsty things I have shared but getting it out of the old squirrel cage and onto “paper” is definitely therapeutic.  Some of my overall darkest days have been those when I haven’t written.  Hmmmm.  Doctor, do we see a pattern here?  Typically entire days don’t occur as dark.  As I shared, Monday wasn’t so bright.  Mostly I am “good” in the morning.  I like hearing the birds, I love sitting on my bed in Flame with my Mac serving as a portable heater warming my lap in the brisk morning air.  The dogs are outside playing.  We still have this dirt thing but in the morning I am not so daunted.  It’s just what is so.  We have acres and acres of dirt and soot and the dogs will get coated with it and we will have piles of towels to wash with no laundry facility in site.  Just don’t ask me about the dirt at the end of the day…
Mostly, mid-day’s are good too.  The sun shines, or it rains or the wind blows – which I must say is still a bit disturbing and these delicate plexiglass windows in Flame don’t seem like they can stand too much in the way of excessive stress and strain so I batten down the hatches and ride it out.  But days are good.  It’s when I start getting tired at the end of the day or whenever my mind says is the end of the day.  I began getting hoarse around 5:30pm last evening and still had two groups of fabulous authors to support.  I could hear the flatness in my voice, feel the fatigue in my system and just wanted to go to bed.  My peeps inspired me by their perseverance and commitment to their own writing so I had just enough gas to be with them on the calls.  Coaching authors is like the proverbial “you can lead a horse to water…” I can’t make them write.  Yet, write, they are.  They are engaged, finding their own voices and expressions – and they are sticking with the process.  It is remarkable.  They are remarkable. 
23 May, 2012 /
In this moment, I am forced to experience gratitude.  Forced you say?  How does that work?  Well, lemme tell you.  Yesterday, we had a visitor.  Previously a stranger, John was the deliverer of joy.  Joy came in the form of a community rallying around me – and us – by creating a gift so lovely and heart-filled that I can be nothing but grateful this morning even as I sit with cramps and fatigue that makes my eyes feel squinty. 
The weekend after the fire, I was supposed to be with my community of healing professionals at a training program created by Jesse and Sharla Jacobs of Rejuvenate Training.  Jesse and Sharla have dedicated their life work to empowering and teaching holistic practitioners and coaches a heart-centered way of marketing themselves as us healing types are often not so business savvy.  In fact, we prefer to give our services away out of love and due to the fact that we are expressing our passion.  That should be free, right?  Charge what we are worth, what???  How can you put a price on love? 
20 May, 2012 /
It’s quiet here.  Dare I say peaceful?  I know houses don’t make much noise – especially mountain houses but it seems more silent than ever before.  The land is restored to an earlier state.  Different than it was in 1983 before the building began yet it restored to a raw place, pre-human dwelling place.  Grass is blooming in patches, birds are singing, bugs are crawling, small wildflowers are poking up in unlikely spots.  The hummingbirds have returned and we welcome them with small feeder on our Astroturf lawn.  I sit outside to write today, getting a later start due to lounging in bed until 7:30, taking out the trash (we have trash service again!), and a series of phone calls.  Jessica is on the way to help me create some order and “continue” with the inventory process.  The dreaded inventory feels just that, dreaded.  Yet with the help of friends, it is doable.  Alone, not so much. 
It promises to be a warm day and I am grateful (as always) to live 3000 feet above the early season heat Denver will experience today.  The shipping container will arrives later this morning and we will begin nesting there as well. More storage space for our small pile of detritus we have accumulated as well as the artifacts that lie in the elements, rusting even more on their newly scorched visages.  I discovered an artist in Evergreen who makes small sculptures out of found art and was drawn to an angel she made from a collection of who knows what.  I am creating a pile for her to commission an angel formed from what once was.   Right now, the pile sits next to the totem pole and obstructs the view off the back of Flame.  It needs to go somewhere else.  The twisted and molten memories beckon and clog my mind more than it deserves to be clogged. 
18 May, 2012 /
The time has come to turn your heart into a temple of fire – Rumi
Have I mentioned how much I love our trailer Flame?  I adore her.  I love her small dear space.  I love the coziness.  I love my drawers (yes, still talking about that!).  I love the little AstroTurf lawn we have adorned with plastic Adirondack chairs and solar lights.  I love her sweet silver silhouette which greets me as I pull in the driveway where she sits just to the right of the scorched totem pole.  I love her solitude.
We still haven’t worked out the space – but it’s only been 3 nights… The clutter gets to David yet I know we will find homes for things.  The most challenging issues are the dogs and the “home office” setup.  The two gigantic dog beds are staying although one takes up the entire kitchen floor and the other the dining/entrance area.  Dogs are happy though – and that’s all that matters.  We can move the beds out of the way during the day. 
16 May, 2012 /
Morning # 2, in Flame.  Last night was much much much better.  My obsessive search for dog beds paid off.  Before I talk about the payoff, lemme tell you about my obsessive search and another demonstration of a brain on stress.  As I mentioned yesterday, the dogs did not have a fun first night and therefore we did not have a fun first night either… Determined to create some comfort for dogs, I went seeking beds that wouldn’t take up the entire tiny floor space yet would create the right amount of comfort for our furry children.  Petsmart had a pair in lovely burnt orange – both weather proof and equipped with carrying handles!  Score!  That is until my baby Tigger settled in to one as I drove around town and I noticed the far from tranquil sound that the “weather proof” cover created.  Tramping through a pile of Christmas wrapping paper was the fine melody.  Out of the frying pan and into the fire, you might say. 
Here’s where the stress response kicks in.  Seemingly out of time to get to yet another dog supply store, I begin to obsess, the thoughts making hopeless circles in my already taxed mind.  Did I already remove the tag?  Should I return it?  Will it be ok?  But I like the orange material.  What if we put the “fleece” pads over it?  Will that work?  What will David think?  Will they take it back tomorrow?  Over and over these considerations rounded the corners of my brain with no solution in site.  In conversations with multiple friends, this was the only thing I could express.  The dog beds… what do I do about the dog beds.  I began to panic – a Niagara falls of tears dangerously close to the surface.  I knew fatigue was setting in as well bringing its own gifts to my stress cycle.  I was going under. 
15 May, 2012 /
Many thoughts arise on this foggy Mother’s day morning.  Rather than indulge my typical considerations of being a childless woman, I send appreciation and love to all the mothers I know – and I celebrate my treasure box of friends who mother each other.  If I sang praises for each of the glorious women I have in my life I would never be able to remove my fingers from the keyboard.  So today, I will clamor on about two beloved momma friends and of course my own momma.  And, I will update you on the journey to our new mother ship, the sweet vessel Flame.
The plan: move out of Lynn’s (another mother I cherish yet the tale of our journey together needs it’s own platform) on Friday and spend the first night in Flame. 
Actuality: rain, snow and unseasonably cold temperatures which discouraged decision to stay a first night in lightly insulated aluminum cylinder.  Felt it wouldn’t be good for mental health which appeared to be strained after day of packing little belongings we have which still took all day and coupled with putting finishing touches of sparkle & shine to welcome the beloved McHeffey’s back to their magnificent abode. 
13 May, 2012 /
I received a voicemail a few days ago which in addition to the multitude of other saved messages I have from you people I treasure deeply.  This one I transcribed; these words I needed to hear and to remember.  Thank you Anne Gillespie for saying:
“Stay in the manure as long as you fricken need to.  Anyone who thinks that grief looks pretty and can be tied up in a little box and is linear hasn’t been through it.  Grief is messy and unpredictable and non-linear.  It’s really good one day and like hell the next day.  There is nothing you need to do.”
As long as I fricken need to...  What I want to tell you today is that I just want to go home.  I really really do.  I just want to go to my home.  That home.  The one that is lost forever and now is being scraped away.  That’s what I want.  I want this experiment to be over and things to go back to “normal”.  I want my bed, my sheets, my creaky staircase, and my infestation of stinkbugs in the bedroom.  I want my leopard chairs, my silver spoons that are the perfect size for a serving of agave in my coffee.  I want my beautiful stove, my claw foot tub.  I want my windows.  I want my meditation loft and my purple office.  I want to sit in there and contemplate the world and my life and think about how lucky I am to live in such a place.  That’s what I want. 
09 May, 2012 /
After two days of clouds, snow, rain and mist, the sun is shining brightly today.  We have had June weather in March, and now March weather in May.  Seems Mother Nature cannot make up her mind.  This is the joy of Colorado living.
Yesterday, my neighbors and I took our third trip to the Capitol.  This time to testify in front of a Senate committee about the future of what has now become two bills to assist victims of the fire.  After pressure from the press (primarily Channel 7), the Governor, Attorney General and legislators from both sides of the aisle came together in a press conference to declare their desire to work together.  Our testimonies last week in front of the house were very different than last night in front of the senate.  Something was shifting in big government and we could sense it in the room.  Hardened lawmakers were softening up and actually wiping away tears as they listened to our words.  The senators that sponsored the bill both got choked up as they presented their case.  All of us were more emotional too.  Yes we are tired and yes it’s hard to tell the story over and over but it seemed we were even rawer and tears flowed from most of us as we shared in front of this strangely sympathetic group. 
08 May, 2012 /
I wrote yesterday but only managed to squeak out 456 words.  Given I have been cranking out an average of a 1000 every time I write, this felt like writing failure.  And, I couldn’t quite “finish” the piece so I ended up abandoning it and going dress shopping (more on that in a minute). 
Now I have 39 minutes to write this post and get it out there.  I really want to keep my morning writing routine.  At 6:51, I am getting a later start than usual and need to leave the house at 7:30.  Pressure.  Writing under pressure doesn’t flow so well.  Writing what comes to me as I sit is very different than writing on a prescribed topic or under a time limit.  Yesterday, I began (again) my challenge of re-writing my book Waiting for Jack.  And, yesterday on my second attempt since the fire, I went down many paths none of which lead to many words on the page.  I took a drive into town, got breakfast at Einstein’s, took the garbage out, browsed house plan books and websites.  And, I was very very sleepy.  I had planned to write all day yet it took me until 10am to even sit in front of the computer.  A rusty 456 words later, I still wasn’t getting anywhere.  I did do some cleaning of my email inbox however. 
06 May, 2012 /
I love the comments I received from yesterday’s blog.  They came from near and far and brightened my heart this morning.  I awoke – and fell asleep last night – in a dark place.  I am more tired than I have ever been in my life.  “Tired” has been my M.O. for much of my life.  It is my shield against the world, my response to “how are you doing?” and a catch-all for many conflicting emotions.  This is a whole new level of tired.  My muscles ache as I walk up hills, my face feels heavy and full, I am short of breath.  Charming, huh?
Yesterday, we made final trash piles on our land to prepare for the bulldozers next week so we can take the next step of moving our trailer to the site to live “at home”.  I love this plan – and I hope it works.  Those dang dogs decided to range while we were cleaning up.  Thinking they had merely passed from sight over a nearby ridge, I began calling them, gently at first.  Given we now have no trees, I was able to spot them way too far in the distance.  Now screaming their names into their selectively deaf ears, I had to hike across acres of blackness to get near them.  Of course, by the time I got to where I had initially seen them, they had moved even further.  I finally was able to waken them from their fantasy of escape and hauled them back to the car.  They were coated in ash, wearing black soot socks and zebra stripes across their bodies.  Just how will we deal with the mess in our trailer, I ponder. 
04 May, 2012 /