I watched my DVDs-Got a deal on Showtime's "Weeds" Season 1, and Bubba was watching the SB in the living room, and we visited one another off and on, often meeting in the kitchen for fruit, rice cakes, juice and water & tea (Constant Comment" with honey). Dark Chcolate-just a little bit for our health.

Emailed people, visited blogs,visited the Super Bowl again, walked for 80 minutes, 4 1/2 miles, showered, perfumed, donned clean clothes, clean sheets, thinking about a book to help me settle, as really, it was a little late in the day to pull off so much exertion. Endorphins are still flowing & I need to settle down and get to bed at my usual early-to-bed 9ish...the tunes are still happily in my head, was particularly expressive while Clapton was on my ipod with his vey perfect and inspirational, "Layla,"-sounded so nice, I had to play him twice, though the second time I danced through it,I still had the inspiration, just not the same energy...

My eyes ache...it's past my bedtime. It was a nice day overall-only a little roller coaster for a little while in the morning Things almost always get better.

Good night, Sweet Heart, Good Night...

Of course, I still get them. I miss him so. I even miss drinking with him-but, I don't miss drinking-just drinking with Daddy. Anything, anywhere with Daddy...this morning, watching "Sunday Morning." I cried deeply missing him...the special on the artist, Harper, and the second special I have seen on this show on "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly."

I saw Daddy here and there (metaphorically) on the show, and my heart got tight, and my breath became labored. My body flushed with heat, from emotions unleashed. My heart felt like it wanted to burst and break at the same time. Hot tears were rolling down my face and from nowhere I was aware of, came the shouted plea, "Oh, Daddy, please make it stop!"

And it stopped. I breathed deeply with relief, and tears became tears of relief, somehow a cooler down-ward flow, still falling but with less urgency. Daddy wouldn't want me to feel all of that pain, and together, I feel, we lessened the pain...all I had to do was ask (yell).

This is not at all what I wanted to blog about today. But, there, you have it. Maybe I will blog more, later. Probably will. I do want to mention what Cecile thought of my lil' backslide into temporary insanity googling the ex...she had a novel view of the whys & where fores of my behavior, but I still like my good friend, John's view of me stepping into something on the side walk, and scraping it off the bottom of my shoe, and then getting on with my life...more later today while Bubba is surrounded by his Super Bowl vibes, and I wander the be-it-ever-so-humble halls, and the backyard(predicted 54 degrees today) with the dogs, read my books, listen to several books on tape & CD that I borrowed from the library (10 items checked out on the afternoon of the diagnosis-beat the heck out of going out and getting drunk & feeling sorry for myself, don't ya, think?

Getting older, maybe getting wiser, and still and always...Daddy's little girl.

When I grow up, I want to have as much fun and be as carefree as Ruth Gordon's "Maude," of "Harold and Maude" infamous cult classic of the 1970's.

So, here, now, what would Maude-In-Training (me) do if her MD looked at her intestinal hernia a few months ago, that he failed to diagnose the obvious. Long story, but I requested a follow-up visit and pointed out that he was incorrect in telling me this lower abdomen bulge were just the normal lumps and bumbs that come with middle age.

"Oh, yes. Well, you've got a hernia there. And you're going to need surgery pretty soon, as it's a pretty big one.

Never mind the scenic route we got here-here I am, out of a job and in need of a moderately important medical surgery pretty soon here...

After that first day of depression & minor panic, I believe Maude would get a grip (as I hope I have done) and started doing the footwork to get into the Veteran's Administration's network and start driving the hour and a half to either, Louisville, Indy, or Bloomington(clinic)and get myself in the system & get the sugery done there & a few other necessary procedures...get that all done before I go job hunting again. The mystery hernia has definitley been a contributory factor to me losing my job at WW-late x1, sent home in pain x1. worked in pain x3...it was not the only thorn in my side, just one of many, but now-it's important that I act.

And, spend down all my savings. And apply for food stamps, and see what they say about getting Medicaid, if I use the VA & find out all kinds of stuff I have no clue about, as a fire has been set under my buttinski, so-to-speak & action is a must.

There's a lot more drama going on in my family. I cry and pray and believe and hope and keep the faith. "Speaking words of wisdom...let it be.."

"There will be an answer, let it be..."

Bubba remains kind and supportive and always trying to cheer me up & tells me not to worry, we will get through all of this...

Family and friends in harm's way, and so I pray. I, myself, will be just fine. Maude would see it for the adventure that it is. I can do this. I am a lot stronger than I act.

early to bed, early to rise...Super Bowl Sunday for Bubba, kick back w/books, DVDs, email and blogstream for me tomorrow. The kind of way I like to spend my days.

more tomorrow

I was sick yesterday-splitting headache and stabbing abdominal pains. I tried to ready myself to go through the day, but gave up & went back to bed, fully clothed,in make up, hyperventilating, and moaning, and suffering beautifully.

Then, I reached for my laptop, and opened it and mysteriously continued my spiral downwards.

What perversion made me google my ex when I already felt like crap? Is it like when one goes downhill, the tendency to snowball becomes irresistible? It was an ill-advised search into the life of someone who should (and mostly does) remain nothing, nobody to me. But some morbid curiosity kept me googling. He has a son that shares his first, middle and last name who just graduated from high school-the kid's name does not surprise me, everything was always all about HP, we were even married on his birthday. HP had always told me that if I became pregnant, he "knew the way to Canada and the way to Mexico," and I would be on my own. One of our final fights, I yelled at him that he never wanted kids as he couldn't take the competition. The look on his face when I said that let me know that I had hit the nail on the head. I always wondered if he had kids with his next wife to prove to himself that I was wrong.

HP is some kind of chairman of that dog sled race in Alaska, the Iditirod, and similar frozen tundra dog races. The Alaskan folk seem to love him, writing about him, quoting him, and everybody glad handing him as the adventurer with a heart. Most folk in San Francisco loved him, too-but they really didn't know him. He still is a respiratory therapist working with with Neonatal babies...schooling that I paid for so long ago. Such an old, trite song...at least I didn't put him through medical school like so many other women I read about. He always wanted to move to Alaska-I always hated cold weather & had no desire to leave California, especially the beautiful Bay Area. My desires never entered into it. He was going with or without me, and thank God, it was without me.

I think when one is sick it is just too easy to keep getting get sicker. Why would I spend the morning researching someone who I allowed to almost ruined my life? It was a very sick thing for me to do to myself back then, and yesterday, and I have to take definite and deliberate steps not to have not fall prey to whatever whacked out brain chemistry that put me in such a sick frame of mind in the first place. Never again!

I kicked liquor, HP, and myriad other bad habits by trying really hard to take good care of myself and to live a worthy life.

The smartest thing I ever did was to write my mother once and ask her for pictures of myself as a child. Then, when I looked at that little girl in pigtails and braids, I swore I would never let anyone hurt her again. I forgot that I have the tendency to be my own worst enemy yesterday, but I won't allow this to happen again. Life is too short, and I need to spend as much time feeling good about myself as possible.

My life is good beyond my wildest dreams now. Sunday, my sisters and their spouses will join Bubba & I celebrating his 57th birthday at Grindstone Charley's. It will be a nice dinner, with no power trips, no ugly name calling, no head games. I will see my mother tomorrow (couldn't do THAT from Alaska), then visit my sister, and have a session with Cecile to try & figure why I'd do such a crazy thing to myself as I did when I was already sick. I think things will be OK as long as I don't pull any repeat performances. I am determined not to waste any more time going down that road...it is just too sick.

There are a lot of amazing and wonderful people in my life-I am rich.

Two wonderful sisters, Kathy and Jan and two wonderful brothers, Buzz and Mark-thankfully, finally, we all live in the same state, within driving distance. The love of my nieces and nephews astounds and excites me-and again, finally they are so close to home! Finally, I have a home thanks to Bubba's love, and he enjoys my entire family, as I love his family.

Billy in South Carolina, remains my self "adopted brother" after more than 30 years. John also in South Carolina, God's gift to loyalty, we have been caring friends for the same 30 years-John has forgiven my many shortcomings with smile and a joke, H since we met, always forgiving me, caring about me, keeping in touch with me. Sean, and old lover that remains a man I pray for and worry about, as his honest friendship has been as precious as painful, for more than 15 years after we parted. Sean told me once that if he ever had children, he knew God was going to give him a daughter as Sean had hurt so many women in his life. God gave him a beautiful daughter, then Sean's wife was diagnosed with brain cancer, and he feels the pain and guilt of his youthful wild oats overwhelmingly in this painful middle age we share.

I recently cyber connected with Heather, a child 6ish, when her mother would bring her along to Winterland,The Cow Palace, and various Bay Area concerts. As I spent so many of those shows covering the free medical clinic, we spent hours in the clinis hanging out together, as the it was her safe-space & I was always there for her. Now, she is thirty-something, married with a 2 1/2 yr old mirror image sans freckles, in Georgia. Michelle from Florida now, from San Francisco then. Deb, my hometown best friend and her wonderfully talented son, Derick Howard. Old friends from the Navy, the Bay Area, fairly new friends from the Stream, and from my little town... I couldn't be more surrounded by love and support than I am at this stage of my life.

My mental-health therapist Cecile, and I are such wonderful friends-our 1 hour sessions always last at least 1 1/2 hours, sometimes 2 hours, with tea and snacks celebrating our friendship, listening to one another's lives and losses, each of us comforting and encouraging one other-she tells me the job I am best suited for would be story-telling on a cruise ship...I can picture that.

I am blessed enough to have a Pete and re-Petey situation...Petey, who I met on the Stream has sent me 15 folders and a desktop full of tunes. Just because he feels like it- and often. We recently exchanged phone numbers as we had both suffered parental losses this year, and we are coming closer friends, long-distance from New York. His voice and accent sounds like like Little Steven's from the Boss Bruce's E St. band, the guy from "The Sopranos.". We swap stories, advice and comfort and share a wonderful musical bond across the miles.

Yesterday, I called my old friend Pete from my Navy days. We haven't talked for several years now. He gave me away at my wedding, and though he never liked my betrothed, he did it to make me happy. He was always a father-figure in our gang, driving us safely from one adventure to the next: drive-ins, opening night in D.C. for "The Exorcist," to the hills of Marin visiting wineries and "The Old Western Saloon," to concerts, parties, parks... Always everybody's best friend and substitute Dad...we have each taken our turns in drama, loss and depression. I was concerned yesterday when he indicated that for so much of his life, he has lived in the shadow of death, and so it would seem. I want to try so hard to lighten his heart and give him hope, but know that the ball is in his court-if he wants to re-kindle our friendship, if he wants any help... It hurts to hear him so blue. He took my Mom sight seeing in San Francisco, when she and HP had a power struggle over my basic rights before the wedding. He took my brother and sister in when they were busted sneaking into the Naval Hospital barracks for a cheap vacation visiting me in Oakland. I had a delightful brunch with Mark today, who was elated that I was re-establishing communications with Pete...I hope that I am, brother, I hope so. Pete-tell me true-can you hang with an Old Hippie Pollyanna when you appear to be surrounded by so many waves of sorrow? Please, Pete...be willing to be my friend once again. I always want to be accessible to those I love, and I still love Pete, our old gang's Pa...and I so want him to be happy again.

I want to work on my friendships on The Stream. Lucy, Moon Silver, Ron, Whit, Desari, Colo, Taylor, Puppy and Ice Man, ME, and...so very many more.

My life is surrounded by music and love, I eat when I am hungry(and then some!), I am cool in the summer, warm in the winter. My boyfriend looks after me and bought me a truck so "you can quit breaking down on all those country roads you drive on..." This is a rare and golden life that I lead.

It's really Wally World's loss...