Old Friends New Friends

Make new friends

But keep the old

One is silver and 

the other gold.

This is a song we used to sing in Girl Scouts when I was but a wee Brownie.  How true it still is.  Today I met new friends, friends that I only know through Facebook.  And joining us were old friends that I've know since 1996 and are true and dear -- you know, GOLD.

We had a great time, touring the State Capitol building, eating lunch at an Ethiopian restaurant, hanging out at my house, and topping it all off with some primo ice cream at Gunthers.  And posting all the while on Facebook to the delight of many.  Sacramento is a great place to entertain out-of-towners.  Even in this heat (100 today) there are places to go. Just not outside.  The river would have been nice, but then we would have had to walk around OUTSIDE.

I've met several blogger friends and Facebook friends and have been delighted each time.  It's a kick to press the flesh with heretofore cyber friends.  Our friends from Dallas were wonderful -- fun and easy and great to play with.

So, know that you have an open invitation to come play in Sacramento if you are in the area.  We always manage to have a great time!

Summer Idle

When I am visiting in Grass Valley, I take in so many mountain forest sights and smells that it overwhelms me.  I wish I had the talent to capture it all - M.O. does a good job in the poem below.

The Summer Day by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean--
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down--
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life? 

One of the 'tricks' of being in the mountains with friends, is knowing how, and enjoying, being idle.  That kind of behavior makes some people very anxious...that used to be me.  Now, I embrace the free space to read, or walk, or sit and watch a lizard do early morning pushups in the sun.  I sit outside and watch the squirrels chase each other round and round the pine tree, and listen to the motor whir of the humming birds as they dive bomb each other in their quest for space at the feeder.

In the early morning and day's end, the tick tick tick of the automatic sprinkler system signals that there is order in this wild place: plants are being tended and kept alive in the oppressive summer heat.  The petunias spill out of the blue ceramic pot; the squash on its lonely hill will soon dominate the wood-chip covered ground.  

We put our hands into the strawberry plants in search of ripe fruit that the birds have missed.  There are many hidden gems to be found, and they are warm and effervescent in my mouth. 

Of course this idleness is an illusion -- my hosts certainly are not idle.  If they were, none of this bounty would exist.  I am just the lucky and very happy recipient of their labors.  And extremely grateful for it all.

No Boat Drinks, But WiFi on the Deck

Here in Grass Valley the squirrels often walk upright.  Summer days are lazy and dinners are pretty frickin' delicious.  We (the bums and I) recount old stories, drink great red wine and know the names of all the birds that visit the garden and forest.  Today on our hike Robin spotted a Western Tanager for the first time this season.  A beautiful bird!  And she identified a smell that I could not place - something akin to artichoke - kit-kitdizze.  A pungent lil' bugger.  Also the name of poet Gary Snyder's place in the foothills somewhere around here.

That's how it works at Chez Bums.  Weird tangential shit happens all the time.  They regale me with stories about meeting the likes of Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Alan Ginsberg.  We listen to great music from the sixties along side Nirvana and Greg Brown.

We are now reclined on the back deck where wifi reception is quite good and the sound of the overhead sprinklers punctuate the early evening.  The only thing missing is the boat drinks.  We are on the Good Ship Lollipop where no one ever gets sea-sick and life-jackets are not required.

The other good news - it is NOT 99 degrees here, like it is in Sacramento.  "Bummer," says Robin.  I couldn't agree more.

The Three Goofs by Roger Mack

California History

Doorway to the store

Today we drove up to Coloma, about 45 miles up into the foothills.  It was the spot where John Marshall discovered gold near Sutter's Mill and brought the Gold Rush of 1849.  80,000 people flooded into California in search of gold.  All that is left now is the Marshall Gold Discovery State Historic Park.

I hadn't been there for 40 years, and when I was last there it was a true ghost town with a large dirt parking lot and crumbling ruins that one could peek into.  It's now a bona fide historic park, with docents playing settlers and old buildings furnished with period furniture and equipment.  My friend and I were lucky enough to find 2 men working in the blacksmith's shop and they showed us some of the tools and decorative iron work that they made.  They even made the tools they used to make everything else -- just they way it was done back then.

A lot of gold came out of the South Fork of the American River, and I think the people who became really wealthy supplied the miners and were not miners themselves.  Of course the peaceful indigenous people were decimated. They perished in great numbers from starvation, disease, abuse, and massacre. Their society, habitat, infrastructure and culture were utterly destroyed.  As the easily accessible gold dried up, brute force was used to force the gold from the earth.  Hydraulic mining destroyed the landscape, required enormous resources of man, water and machines, and yielded ever smaller amounts of gold for all their trouble.

It's a part of our state history that every Californian child learns from their earliest years in school.  When I was in school, there was no mention of the negatives to the endeavor, except of course that not everyone walked away rich.  It was told as a grand story of man's ingenuity and the primary reason California became a state when it did.  It was the bedrock of development, wealth and society in California.

Today, 163 years after the discovery of gold on the very land we were on, we enjoyed a sumptuous picnic in the shade of a tree.  Belly full, I could have taken a nap right then and there.

I didn't sense any tortured echos of the past, only enjoyed the pastoral beauty on a hot spring day with a dear friend. 

Awkward Moments in Dining

I've signed up for a 30 day web based coaching class that begins in January, and I'm perusing web sites connected to that one.  My discovery this morning was a blog on money and frugality (which I'm all about - frugality, that is), here.  The article tackles that oh-so-awkward situation in restaurant dining where the overwhelming sentiment at the table is to split the check equally.

Now that I am on a greatly reduced and fixed income, I have to parse my expenditures carefully.  I rarely eat out, and when I do, I am back to the stage first adopted in my twenties to choose from the lower-priced menu items.  It's a must if I want the pleasure of dining out.  And I've discovered that I am usually pleased with my menu selection, and no, I don't need the $10 glass of wine.  Unless you're paying, of course - heh.

My first very awkward moment in dining was 30 years ago, out with friends to celebrate someones birthday.  My then-husband and I were among a group of just six.  A nice restaurant featuring Creole cooking.  Our hosts, a couple familiar with the restaurant, took charge of ordering for the table.  The table.  Yes, you read that right.  Champagne, abundant appetizers, a selection of dishes that were varied so we could all 'taste.'  Then the after dinner drinks and dessert.  I forget what the bill was, but it was to be split so the birthday boy's dinner was his present.  My husband handled the transaction and I notice he was becoming pale and ill-tempered.  As we strolled to our car I found out why.  The bill was astronomical.  For us, anyway.  We were eating with high-rollers, people who dropped hundreds of dollars at a meal without a care.  That was the last time we ate with those folks.  It ruined the whole affair; for chrissakes I remember it thirty years later.

In the intervening 30 years, as my income rose, I treated myself and friends to high-priced meals out.  I became insensitive to the cost -- it was a gastronomical adventure to be indulged in and enjoyed.  So I understand that side of the story as well.  I do think I kept in mind that some of my dinner companions were making far less money than I, and I hope (and like to think) I adjusted dining choices appropriately.

Here I am decades later: retired and separated from my wife, with a new self-induced income restricted life.  Recently, once again, I experienced extreme sticker shock when I treated a couple of friends to a meal out.  These are good friends, and generous in many ways, and I wanted to reciprocate. 

We were at a nice restaurant.  I was there to enjoy and to treat my friends, but my pesky nervous anxiety began as one cocktail turned into two which needed to be accompanied by nibbles.  A lovely meal followed, really, but it was lavish and beyond my means.  Urp.  Pass the antacids, please.  I have got to come up with a strategy for this kind of thing.  My guests were enjoying themselves, and I did not want to screw that up with the realities of my economic limitations.  But.  Won't do that again without some parameters.  I think just being straightforward is the key here.  Something like, "I'd love to take you to dinner.  My treat for a change.  Let's choose a restaurant in my price range -- if you can handle it!  Or we could have cocktails and d'oeuvres out, and dinner at home.  Whaddya say?"

So, uh, awkward, when all you want to do is sup on a fine meal with friends.  Sheesh.

Reunion

Who are these People?

Grey Fox Alternative School finally had our reunion. A year in the making, we managed to have 10 out of the 13 of us in attendance.  (The people in the photo above just happened to be riding by and are not connected with our reunion -- I just thought they were hoot!  It was some kind of wine tour thingy).

37 years ago, we were a group of precocious teenage free-thinkers who got together with some disgruntled, visionary teachers and petitioned the school board to let us form an alternative high school that would operate within the larger school.  We asked for independent studies, for learning that was not tied to 1 hour 10 minute blocks of time, for learning experiences outside the classroom that earned us credit toward graduation.

Our teachers at the time were like super men (yes, all men) to us - they could do no wrong.  They treated us with the respect that adults bestow upon other adults, but rarely upon teenagers.  They talked with us about anything that was on our minds.  They trusted us with their expensive photographic equipment and let us design our own curriculum.   I was reminded of the one year when the yearbook adviser let the crazy hippies run with the production, and the jocks and cheerleaders (and their parents) were furious that so little page space had been given to football and other traditional sports.  We did, however, have an insert of poetry, photography and drawing.  Smile.

Hanging out with these folks yesterday, I was struck how familiar these people felt.  Some I have seen from time to time over the years, some not at all.  We've all been through the mill called life, but there is an essential self that remains intact.  Because we were a small gathering,  there was  an opportunity for real sharing of stories.  A time to talk and a time to listen, and to fully grasp the various twists and turns offered to each.  Some of us have had more pain in our lives than should be endured by anyone...and we held a space in our circle yesterday for everyone to share their story.

I'm sure I will be 'processing' my feelings from this day for weeks to come.  I witnessed joy and contentment, anxiety and despair, and everything in between.  Many of us spoke about the belief that we just wouldn't live to be the ages we are now. We are of an age where decisions must be made: if we have parents still, how do we take care of them? If we have kids at home, how do we launch them into capable competent lives? When do we retire and when will we know when the time is right?  I am the first in the group to be a grandma, but I'm sure others will follow in time.  Our stereotypes about older people and 'grandmas' are being challenged as we are becoming those people.

My sister and drove the 190 miles home today, leaving the cool fog of the Monterey Peninsula for the heat of the Sacramento Valley.  A great trip.  And what a long, strange trip it's been.

Thank you, one and all.

That Friend

Sweet baby Jesus in diapers.  Have you ever had a friend who is an incessant talker?  What the heck are you supposed to do with them?  I am researching, because I have a friend who is driving me crazy.  Here's a link.  And, confession time, I have to curb my own tendency to talk incessantly (say that five times fast - no, wait, that's counterproductive).  I do have to be conscientious about making sure the conversation is two-way and not the Tara show. Some friends say I update my status too often on Face Book.  Imagine.  Well, I never.

I understand a lot of what the habit is all about: for me it's about wanting to feel heard, acknowledged, accepted.  It is also because cognitively I understand something better when I can talk it out.  It's also because I was raised in an isolation tank for the first 3 years of life.

That Friend, hereafter referred to as TF, turns a lot of people off because TF is so damn exhausting.  TF is the butt of jokes. TF has a real problem, but nobody wants to hurt TF's feelings, so TF lives in ignorance.  If you are wondering if you are that friend, you're not.  That friend does not blog or even (gasp!) use Face Book.  So I feel clean and clear writing about that friend, especially since I am not using any names.  However, if you thought seriously that you might be who I was referring to, maybe you need to take a look at that.


In working this dilemma, I have tried various strategies, all with very temporary results.  I'm getting to the end of my tether.  This is someone I want to remain friends with.


Do you have one of these people in your life?  How do you cope?  I really would like to know!

Reunion

I visited with a friend today.  A friend I haven't seen in 33 years (give or take a couple).  A friend who has been living on another continent for 16 years.  A friend I found again on the Internet...Face Book of all things.

The passage of time is a very strange thing.

We ended up, in our very different lives, gravitating to similar spiritual quests and practices.  We circled in and out of the same Zen Center, of all things (she much more than I).  We had our children, we married our loves, we divorced, we were dealt physical blows that wrecked our bodies and changed us forever.  All the stuff of human existence.  Our paths did not cross again in all those years.

And there we were, today, sitting in a cool and peaceful living room on a hot summer afternoon in the California countryside.

I wish I could articulate something really profound about it -- because that's what I'm feeling.  I just can't seem to put it into words.  The concepts of time and space, and randomness and universality have me sitting back with a stunned deer-in-the-headlights look.  My cup runneth over.

This I do know: I enjoyed myself immensely.  I feel infinitely lucky.  Life is amazing.

The Life!

My bobble head Obama and my purple Buddha got me in the right mood to hit the road.  With my new CD of Walking Spanish blasting away, I was flying free and ready for some fun!

There were great clouds to the north east and this photo doesn't begin to do the scene justice.

The bums made me a great grilled pizza dinner, and later will all fell asleep to the sounds of crickets and frogs singing their sweet night songs.

 Morning came on strong with blazing sun on the deck and some great shade-grown organic coffee provided by my excellent hosts.

We took a morning hike through the woods, Roger picking up bird feathers for me to stick into my hat band.  Robin spotted a baby deer and got a great shot of it.  Go to her blog, she'll probably have it posted soon.

I tooled on down the road to Auburn in the late afternoon to catch a free concert at the Auburn Regional Park.  Mumbo Gumbo opened the show and they were fantastic -- the sheer exuberance of their music blew me away.  I even got up and danced with these creaky old lungs of mine.

I ate chicken tacos and had an ice cold beer and the weather was perfect.  I met up with two friends from Downiville (1.5 hours up the road).  Great American Taxi was the second band, and while good, the sun was setting and it was time to be getting home.  The drive down highway 80 with the windows wide open and the wind in my hair (and a great jazz radio station playing) made the perfect ending to my trip.  It was sheer joy, my friends.  All of it.

Wa-Hoo!

One Year Later

I was standing at the Crossroads.  I was cloaking my question in general terms, but my question was about my life, my marriage.  One year later, here I am experiencing a very different life in a new city, with family and friends embracing me and holding me up.

I didn't feel I was living authentically, and I didn't quite know how to change that.

I had a dream: to live a more fulfilling life, a life where I was wanted and loved and appreciated.  A life that was free of the chaos I had found myself in -- free to be me and to ask for what I want.  It was possible, I knew, but could I pull myself out of my mental and emotional quick-sand and make it happen?  Yes!  It was a long process, and it was far from easy, but, Yes!

I have found that happy existence now: I can join friends for dinner at the drop of a hat and share good food and conversation -- just a short walk from my home.  I am delighted every day by the places I see, the people I meet, the friends and family I spend my time with.  I can have family stop by unannounced and stay for dinner.

There is nothing earth-shattering about this.  I'm am a soon-to-be grandma who just wants to enjoy her life and learn to knit a decent baby blanket!  I want to read, and see movies, and cook good food.  Take long walks.  Sit in the park.  The bare necessities.  And I want to do all this in the context of good health - mental, spiritual, physical.

I want to enjoy a live baseball game, and blog, and play with my photographs.  I want to drive up into the hills and visit my friends at their forest paradise.  I walk the streets of my neighborhood and soak up all the new visuals, sounds and smells.  Roses in this town are ubiquitous and so very fragrant.  Beautiful Victorian Ladies grace the streets alongside California Bungalows.  Then you turn a corner and there's a gleaming aluminum state office building with 'the suits' standing outside for their cigarette break.

Oh what a difference a year can make.  Change can be very very good.  And it's never too late.  Never.  Ever.  Carpe Diem, my friends.  Like the blog subtitle says, Wake Up! Life is transient, swiftly passing. Be aware the great matter. Don't waste time.

In Praise of Quiet Places

Here in Grass Valley, I am up with the sun to marvel at the sights and to luxuriate in the quiet. It is so blissfully quiet here, compared to my Sacramento apartment. I had forgotten.

My hosts, avid birdwatchers and feeders of the aforementioned creatures, are surrounded by ducks, finches, hummingbirds, quail. They are calling, talking, singing all around me and this is often the only sound I hear. Occasionally there is the grinding of a large truck shifting gears as it makes its way along the nearby highway...but mostly, outside of the laughter and conversation with good friends, I am nestled in quiet. Wrapped in it, cradled, nourished, bolstered. It is the feeling I get when I lower myself into a tub of hot water to sooth my aching muscles. Ah....

Deborah describes this beautifully on her blog, "I want to talk about the value of quietness, stillness, slowness. I’m talking about bottomless silence, an alternative sense of time. The quietness of being in a snow filled forest. The extravagant lassitude of a deserted beach. The stillness of granite."

Here's to quiet places, and the companionship of good friends.

Road Trip!

I'm happy. Can you tell? Road trips usually make me giddy, and this is a good one: driving up to see Roger and Robin, see Lynn, possibly stop in to see my sis if the timing is right. I'm headed to places I've never been before: Grass Valley and Downieville, CA. These are the boonies, boys and girls. Yes, California has boonies, and lots of them.

Driving Labor Day weekend is a bit nutty, I know, but I figure the traffic will be less on Sunday. Right? Yes?! If not, I will be one unhappy camper.

Lessee...got my cooler, my coffee making supplies (apparently I am the only person on the planet still drinking the stuff), my RXs, my own pillows, camera, all devices electronic to keep me in touch with the world, swim suit for those streams and lakes, and scant clothing because I expect it will be warm up there in the wilds of northeastern California. Got my ipod, that's a must for when decent radio is not to be found. We're spoiled locally with great radio, and I'm usually disappointed with the on-air offerings when I travel.

The Pièce de résistance is a batch of homemade tomato soup that I froze specifically for my friends (hence the cooler). We're going to eat well, drink wine, laugh our assess off. I'll finally get to see their new home, and all the work they've done to get the farming set-up complete before winter. I may even do some weeding or hoeing for them. Who knows? More power to 'em if they can get my lazy ass moving in service of their future gourmet meals.

Here's to clear roadways, beautiful vistas, glorious tunes and laissez le bon temps rouler!

P.S. Trip made possible by my dear sweet wife who will be holding down the fort and beating, er, feeding the animals for me.

Buddhist Blessing

For Roger, for Eric, for me and for you....

Just as the soft rains fill the streams,

pour into the rivers and join together in the oceans,

so may the power of every moment of your goodness

flow forth to awaken and heal all beings,

Those here now, those gone before, those yet to come.

By the power of every moment of your goodness

May your heart's wishes be soon fulfilled

as completely shining as the bright full moon,

as magically as by a wish-fulfilling gem.

By the power of every moment of your goodness

May all dangers be averted and all disease be gone.

May no obstacle come across your way.

May you enjoy fulfillment and long life.

For all in whose heart dwells respect,

who follow the wisdom and compassion of the Way,

May your life prosper in the four blessings

of old age, beauty, happiness and strength.

The Elixir of Life

This is the dinner I made last night for my guest Lynn Z. Singer, songwriter, incredible wit and spirit, and someone I knew just little bit in high school. The chicken currie recipe is from "A Year of Slow Cooking" and you can see it here. I made a salad of arugula, granny smith apples, pecans and blue cheese. A lovely counterpoint to the curry.

Regarding the recipe: I used fresh chicken, not frozen, and I added one medium sized sweet potato, peeled and cubed. I also used twice the amount of yogurt at the end because I added a wee too much cayenne. I've never made a red currie before, and I couldn't find the spice garam masala at my regular grocery, so I went to Whole Foods to buy it. The dinner was a hit, and I'll be making this again.

We had a great time, and went to the Ugly Mug to listen to some fantastic music after dinner. Lynn has an incredible voice and we were singing along to a song and her contribution was splendid. The keyboardist came over during the break and they exchanged information. He wants to jam with her. Neat! He gave us each one of his cds. Then, wonder of wonders, I won the raffle at the break and got another cd from a different artist. I also purchased one of Jay Howlett's cds, his newest one "Carnival Lights." Fantastic songs. Check him out.

What a memorable evening. Two weeks in a row of good friends, good food, and amazing music. I'm on a roll.

Mix It Up

photo from Lisa's Kitchen

I've stumbled upon a great website for vegetarian recipes, Lisa's Kitchen. The mixed greens with blueberry balsamic vinegar looks fantastic, doesn't it, Melly? I also want to try your Morrocan Thighs - sounds so naughty!

From Margo Moon's interview with Melissa Etheridge: I think one of the greatest moments in our history was when we rose up as a people and pushed through our fear of racism and those dark days that I know I grew up in, that we were able to elect a man of mixed-race heritage and it was a beautiful moment to see us do that. But when it comes down to who is running the country, you could put anyone in the Oval Office and it doesn’t matter, because the multi-national corporations have run off with our government. The only way we can get back on the right track is if we come together and say, “Enough, enough. We’re not going to sell our souls and our bodies to corporations.”

I was thinking a lot of my friend Laurette last night. Then it hit me: it's been a year since her passing. Weird how stuff like that happens....I'll raise my martini glass to her this evening.

The Gift

This pillow was a gift to me from the children of my friend, Laurette. After her passing, after her burial here, back at the house they gave this to me. It was stitched by her father-in-law, sewn into a pillow by her mother-in-law. I had it with me (perfect back pillow for driving) when I went to her grave site today. I thought it perfect to photograph it with both their names on the headstone -- the pillow that was stitched for them over 50 years ago, by Lazlo's parents, placed upon their graves. The full circle of their wonderful lives. Lazlo died in 1977 when I was a callow youth, unable to absorb the enormity of his passing. He had been a regular overnight guest in my family's home, traveling the way he did in his architectural practice. He had escaped Hungary before the 1956 revolution. He was a dear man, who enjoyed life and took so many under his wing. Cancer took him when I was 20 years old, and he was only 56 years old. Laurette lived a good long time after that, and she carried on admirably. Had an entirely new life and came into her own after raising 3 children and being a diligent and loving stay at home mom.
Sitting at their grave today, I had a good cry. A cleansing release of loss. A gift that lifted a heavy weight from my chest. A blessing. Even in their death, they keep giving such divine gifts to me.

Super Woman? Shameless Fundraiser?

The Human Race. I'm walking a 10k this Saturday, May 10. It would please me no end if you were to log onto my race website and make a donation - nuttin's too small! I'm walking to raise money for scholarships for older women who are returning to school - namely UC Santa Cruz. My poor lil' team (agency name: UCSC Women's Club) has not come close to its goal, and I'm hoping I can get a last minute flurry of small donations that pour in and put us over the top. Kind of an Obama thing. Won't all of my team mates on the UCSC Women's Club just be impressed by my fundraising abilities?

(And Robin, need I remind you, I voted often and early for your photo!)

For all of you waiting with great anticipation: the grilled artichokes were delicious. I did stray from the recipie, however, and used Soy Vay Wasabiyaki instead of plain soy sauce. This company makes some kick-ass sauces for folks who really love their food. (It's a Santa Cruz local company.) And this particular sauce added quite a kick to the artichokes. Along with the minced garlic. Yum.

Tomorrow's my minor surgical procedure: I'll be out for 2 days, back t0 work on Thursday, and then walking the 10k on Saturday! Don't believe it? Watch me!

The Waterford of Friendship

My daughter and my friend.

I have a friend. I think she’s a friend. What constitutes a friend? If you have to ask, I think you're in trouble.

We were very involved with one another when our girls were infants and small children. They’ve moved away – gone now more years than they were in my neighborhood. Two states away, we managed to visit annually. She was my introduction to the Rocky Mountains, winter snowstorms and summer thundershowers. A vacation at her house usually involved a lot of sleep on my part. Recharging the batteries. Her athletic husband must think me a slug. But he’s never complained.

The last time we spoke, their family was visiting in the summer of 2006. We had a great time. They introduced me to Rinpoche. I don’t remember what triggered it for me, perhaps it was an accumulation of things, but I decided to be quiet and wait for her to contact me after their visit. She was going to send photos of the trip – ones that I was eager for and told her so.

15 months have gone by with nary a word. She has not heard a word from me: no birthday card, no Christmas gift, nada. I turned 50 this June. Nothing. When she turned 50, I flew a thousand miles to celebrate with her. I usually send Christmas presents to the whole family – and I never hear zip. I send because I find something I think they’d like, and it’s fun. So, no, I’m not looking for syrupy thanks. Sometimes I would like to know the gift arrived, however.

Am I whining? Maybe. Okay, yes. I know she’s been lazy when it comes to contact – we’ve laughed about it in the past. I had hoped that our connection was special and would lead to at least the occasional phone call. So, okay, I’m not that special. Suck it up and deal.

Now I’m hurt and I’m mad. I don’t want to contact her in this state of mind. I need to find equanimity before I can converse with her. I do love her. I do want to be kind. I also feel like having a screaming temper tantrum in her presence. Gee, that’d make me want to connect with someone: having them ball me out at sonic sound levels.

Anne Lindbergh said, "Men kick friendship around like a football and it doesn't seem to crack. Women treat it like glass and it falls to pieces.” Do you think so? Is it a woman thing?