Last night one of our dear friends lost his beloved dog.  After hearing the news that she was sick, I could think of not much else.  She was showing symptoms of poisoning, the same reactions a rat would have when we are trying to get rid of it, her organs shutting down, bleeding internally.  Rather than put her down as the first doctor suggested, Frank was determined to do everything he could for her.  Even a blood transfusion couldn’t save her.  She died last night.
I am stunned by the level of tragedy in our small community.  Yes, I realize, it is happening everywhere, all the time.  There have been times before where it seems devastating things are occuring all over our close circles.  I have had mine, you have had yours.  But these early months of 2012 have been exceptionally full.  I read callous comments after the fire, that we mountain people should expect such things.  Blah blah blah.  I wrote about that already.  Yes, we all know that to love is to risk having our heart broken in so many pieces that we may never pick them all up.  Right now, for Frank, I would imagine there are no words that will actually help.  What I can offer is to be there in the pain and with the pain.  We will tell him we aren’t going anywhere.  We love him.  It beyond sucks.  Life isn’t fair.  In walking through our fire, knowing that people can be in the shadows with us has made the biggest difference. 
30 May, 2012 /
Sewing machine, telescope, Kleenex box holders, Cuisinart… these things run through my mind as I am trying to return to REM this morning.  The dreaded inventory list, still not complete and always looming.  I stunned another naive insured person yesterday by explaining what the inventory process is really like.  Most people have no idea.  I didn’t.  Listing everything you owned down to the minutia in order to get a fraction of it back from your “insurance” is a painstaking process.  Interestingly, David awoke with a similar list.  We haven’t sat down to do inventory together lately.   The clock is ticking.  Things are popping into our heads, and some may disappear forever into the folds of grey matter that we limited humans still can’t access.  It’s time to get this sucker done.  Operation Inundation must proceed – and complete – soon.  It drains are beleaguered energy banks.  I still pant as I walk up small hills, but my psychological energy is replenishing.  Until, that is, something happens…
The recent ‘happening’ was a trip to the bank carrying a large check meant to represent “our structure”.  As you faithful readers know, this number has been grossly underestimated (and that’s a whole ‘nother story).  So into my bank I go, pleased to have received this check from the insurance company and ready to have some financial breathing room for our near future.  The bank had other ideas. Even though we continue paying our mortgage, the bank wants to keep the money and dole it out at their pre-determined milestones along the way.  To add salt to the wound, this would tie up other monies that are coupled with that large check including our “outbuilding fund” to replace sheds and our “tree fund” for the meager attempt to rehab some of our trees which really means chop them down and haul them away.  In that moment, I could not engage in the one-sided proclamation that was heading my way.  I was beyond furious.  The sympathetic banker who was the deliverer of the bad news glanced at me kindly.  I steamed out of there calling my attorney as I fled. 
26 May, 2012 /
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 /
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 /
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 /
Writing became such a process of discovery that I couldn't wait to get to work in the morning:  I wanted to know what I was going to say.  
~Sharon O'Brien
Yesterday I had the opportunity to talk about writing for a solid hour on a tele-seminar hosted by the fabulous Kym Coco.  She inquired about my journey of becoming a writer; the benefits of a writing practice; how writing has changed my life; common beliefs that keep people from writing; and how writing could be an access to realizing our potential.  I could have talked for hours on this subject and Kym masterfully pulled the points from my long-winded and passion-filled answers.
The day before I began writing my first book, Waiting for Jack, I was not a writer.  And, it took me years to actually call myself a writer.  I was becoming an author but being a “writer” seemed to be some elite category where I had to earn membership.  And maybe that’s true.  At some point in my journey, I began to call myself a writer.  Now, in my blogging, I am getting close to the total word count of my first book.  It took me 9 months to write that and I have only been doing this for 33 days...  I have never been a proponent of speed-writing but I am seeing what is possible when the fire burns hot. 
10 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 smiling the day before, I hoped yesterday would be filled with smiles as well.  Not so much.  The day started out well.  We were invited to dear friends for breakfast and then planned to go to our 12-Step meeting.  Somewhere in that lovely plan, things went awry.
When we think about our future, some of the planning is fun, up to a certain point.  Then one of the many roadblocks comes into view and everything quickly seems dismal.  Given the large amount of unknowns regarding where we are in the process with our insurance company, what our final options may be, or even where we want to be, nothingis certain.  And, due to the instability and upheaval of the last month, it is relatively easy to come unhinged.  Yesterday David said, “We are held together right now by bailing wire and chewing gum”.
30 April, 2012 /
I slept in until 7am!  Amazing.  Not quite rested, but happy that my wee hour wake up did not keep me awake.  Although I “slept in”, I feel heavy headed.  Every day, as I sit down to write; I don’t know what will come.  I process what needs to be processed.  I say what is there immediately, or what comes to me as I sit.
Today, as I sit down to write, I wonder if my writing will happen; if I will find my flow.  Right now, it feels effortful.  I worry I will run out of words before I run out of life.  Then Tigger throws up on the carpet and I jump up to scrub the green vomit before it becomes a stain.
During that task, my thoughts come in the form of sentences that need to be written.  Often, when I process internally, my thoughts come out this way.  Based on that evidence, I can’t imagine I will ever run out of words.  It is just a concern that we writers face: the dreaded “writers block”. 
22 April, 2012 /