My best friend died last week, after a long illness. While I am relieved for her, because she suffered, and had no quality of life, I will miss talking to her more than I can even explain.
She was that friend who could tell you the unvarnished truth about yourself, and you didn't get mad at her. And the reverse was just as true. We had been friends since about kindergarten. I can't even remember my life without her in it.
While looking for pictures of her in my boxes of photos, I came across this one.
That's me, at the time dealing with my abusive, alcoholic husband. My friend, whose name was Gayle, coaxed me through it and out to the other side. I am not sure how I would have done it without her.
The truck was the "blue beast". The cat was Morris. The little boy, all grown up and married now, is my cousins son, Michael, who was visiting with his family. They came from England for two weeks, and luckily drunken husband had moved out for a while, which I remember worked out well.
Ah, memories. The loss of someone so much a part of your life, seems to make those memories appear nonstop and swirl around in your head at record speed.
Goldie is managing in his role as the only outdoor cat. He sits on the other side of the screen, and he and Sydney discuss her disdain for him.
Sometimes, she stares while he does this. I swear he is taunting her.
A couple of years ago, a bad storm flattened one of my high bush cranberrys. Lois and Claire and I tied it up, propped it up, and prayed for the best.
Here it is, a complete success story. I planted it from a little 2 ft high twig, so
saving it was important to me. It is covered with red berries in the winter.
The heat here has been horrific, as it has been in many places throughout the country.
I try not to complain about it, I know that summer has a lot of good things about it.
But I still don't like it.
One of my favorite breakfasts: a peach, strawberry, kale, protein shake, with some turmeric
thrown in for good measure.
This was a couple of weeks ago, when it was still comfortable to sit on the porch. It certainly isn't
Some nights we go down the road to grab a bite at the local brew pub.
They have the most awesome onion rings on the planet.
And the beer is good too.
I've been trying to take pictures of all my hand woven clothing, but I missed the
window of cool evenings to do it.
Now I have to wait until this heat wave is over.
So between worrying about DH"s health problems, and mourning my friend's death, the last month has been pretty stressful. Awful.
I have tried to keep myself busy, it's the only thing that has really helped. I have cleaned the loft of the barn, the loft over the studio, I have downsized dishes, my clothes, all the fabric I had stashed over the years for rag rugs. I've exhausted myself, and found myself still right here in the middle of it anyway.
It reminds me of a poem that I always liked, about meeting yourself galloping back and forth on a white horse down a lonely road.
That image, well, that about says it.
So I decided to maybe slow things down, and just let it be.
I spent some time playing around with alcohol inks.
It's very relaxing, and a little hypnotic.
And then of course, there's always these two. They manage to put things in perspective every
single time, reminding me that life goes on, that every day is a gift, and that all any of us can do is the very best that we can, each and every time that we wake up and are given one more day.
The jewelry's not bad either.