Two weekends ago the twins came up from Moscow and we had a really great time. I didn't get to do anything for them on their birthday in March so instead, we all went to Silverwood with my mom and we spent the day looking at all the cute little shops, riding many of the rides (Corkscrew, Timber Terror, Tremors, Panic Plunge, Tilt-a-Whirl, Roundup, and the wave pool of Boulder Beach Bay), and relaxing. We enjoyed tea and coffee at the Victorian Coffee House and while sitting outside under a tree, were blessed with a view of hundreds upon hundreds of bumble bees buzzing around the blooms of the tree. It was a nice scene. Lots of walking (over five miles!). Lots of people playing Pokemon Go.
When we got back to my place, Hannah was cooking us a nice meal. The twins and I decided to run to the hot tub and soak for a bit since we were sun burnt and sore. While there I took off my engagement ring and the ring of Hannah's that I'd been wearing for the past ten or so months. I set them beside the hot tub and forgot them when we all left a bit later. I remembered pretty quickly that I'd left them and rushed no more than twenty minutes later but the rings were already gone. I'm trying to get my apartment managers to watch the footage and help me track down my rings but I don't really think they give a shit. Meh. I'm angry at myself for losing the rings and trying to make it a lesson against materialism. Except... it was one of Hannah's rings that I lost too. And that one is the one I'm really sad about losing.
That week at work, a few things happened. Firstly, we finished moving our department from the lobby level to the third level. It's going to take some time to adjust I think, but so far I like it. Not sure what the future holds for me right now, but I'm going to just embrace impermanence and live in the now. Right now I have A, B, and C. I won't worry D until D comes to pass. Nothing lasts forever and all we really truly have are the moments happening this instant.
And speaking of nothing lasting forever, on Thursday, my supervisor's father passed away. I guess technically he entered a vegetative state. I'll know more about all of that later but for now, my heart really goes out to my supervisor. She is a very sweet person and a total daddy's girl. I cried for her the night after I heard about what she's going through. That same day, another coworker learned that her mother's cancer had come back. So it was not a good day for a lot of us. I was in a funk. That night I went to Stitch and Witch feeling distant and weird and it made Hannah really upset that I was so out of it. Once I got in there though and did some shitty coloring (and oh man was it shitty!) I felt a bit better. Also I got to see my favorite Free Mason there and he did a neat Tarot Name reading for me. I love hearing him talk about the Tarot and love his kind, soft energy. I'm really glad he came to Stitch and Witch and I hope he keeps coming.
On Friday, as I walked to work from the Plaza stop, I saw a sign outside the Bing Crosby theatre announcing that Sherman Alexie would be reading there that night. So instantly, my Friday night plans were made. I had Hannah meet me downtown after work. We grabbed a quick shitty meal at McDonald's and then saddled up for the show/reading. It was exactly what I needed. Brought back all the good memories of the MFA program and restored in me some of my old passion for the written word. I've been very depressed and lackluster about writing lately but seeing Sherman, listening to him, watching him move and engage the crowd. Getting his signature. It was a great evening. That night I slept pretty well. Satisfied after spending the evening with Sherman Alexie. And it was good that I slept well because I was wearing an oxygen tester on my index finger. It's the first step to finding out if part of my overall health and attention issues are due to sleep apnea. I don't want to have sleep apnea, but if I do have it, I want to be treated immediately. I want my energy back!
The next day, Hannah, Fiona and I all went to the Perry Street Fair. I went mainly for the Buddhist Temple Open House but it was fun to see all the vendors and feel the creative energy. Unfortunately I was already starting to get sick so I didn't get quite as excited and inspired as usual when I go to things like these. However, there was a strange and endearing moment: Hannah had left me for the car and Fiona was up the road checking out the rest of the vendors and I had managed to find myself in a little throng of people watching a street magician. He was wearing all orange and had a dry, understated sense of humor that really worked for him. I love magic shows. I know there is a trick to it... I know that there is some kind of mechanical answer to every mystical feat but I don't fucking care. Bring on the illusion and deception and the magic! This orange street magician was pretty fun. At one point he nailed a giant nail into his nasal cavity and this he told us wasn't actually a magic trick, that it was a carnival thing and then he kept starting and stopping so much that his audience was about to have a heart attack. A tall man beside he grabbed my arm and asked if it was okay if he clung to me during the trick. I said yes. So we watched and sure enough the man hammered the nail straight into his head via the sinus. It was so weird and I loved it.
By Saturday night I was feeling pretty goddamn awful health-wise. It felt like I was getting bronchitis, you know... like I always do. And so I drank lots of fluids, took 1000 units of Vitamin C and headed to bed at about 9 or so. But it was awful and I couldn't sleep. Finally close to 3AM I texted my boss telling her I wasn't sure if I was going to make it. I did get about an hour and a half of sleep before dragging my ass into work. I kept a running dialogue with my boss via text. She was checking up on me, making sure I was doing okay. Well I survived the work day and then drove home. Only I was so out of it that I passed my Pines exit. Passed three other exits. Passed Liberty Lake. And then saw a "Welcome to Idaho" sign. Apparently my sick brain had decided to go to my parent's house for a while.
So I went to see my Dad, my Mom was at my Aunt's house. And Dad took care of me, put me to bed, brought me tea, patted my back during a coughing fit. Ellie Bellie, the black Persian, also played the Nurse. She kept curling up with me in the bed. I maybe got another hour of sleep before I couldn't take laying flat anymore. Dad was so cute. He was going to pull out more chicken from the freezer so that I could stay for dinner but I told him I had to be getting back so Hannah wouldn't worry about me. He managed to make me stay longer, however, by tempting me with a corndog. But after the corndog, and the microwaved quesadilla, and the coffee, and more Ellie cuddles, and conversation about how horrible people are (we were watching the News), Dad finally let me go.
That evening while watering the pumpkin plant, I found an infant bird. It looked as if it had fallen out of the tree while trying to fly or had somehow been injured. We put in a large box with a towel to keep it comfortable. A friend of ours who knows a bit about birds told us that was the best thing to do. That the parents would come for it later if it was meant to live. The next morning it was dead.
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