This afternoon I was perfectly and completely content. I was driving back home in my comfortable truck - both windows down - listening to a new play list on my daughter's retired iPod - eating oriental chicken wraps from Applebees. Sounds almost like a beer commerical, doesn't it?

The greatest thing about partial memory loss is you can't remember what you should be worried about. It's a wonderful freedom. I really don't know if it's memory loss, or if I have finally reached the point where I just honest and truly don't care - but it's good. I don't have concerns about a job (although it has been an extremely long hiatus of piano tuning for me) or any nagging guilt about the house (besides one spare bedroom piled to the eaves with a whole lot of 'yes-this-is-worth-keeping-I-just-have-no-room-right-now'). It doesn't matter to me that I have a soon-to-be six-year old completely unbroken gelding - the unfinished shed is half-painted and has only part of a roof leaning atop of a hay-bale. Who cares?

But I'm nibbling away all day at labeling photographs - I've spent quality time with my one child within visiting distance - I've walked the dogs AND my horse twice today. My only duty left tonight before bed is to locate what is left of the field mouse my cat was proudly carrying, very much alive, around as a trophy this evening. I don't think the mouse was ever released, and I can't imagine my cat actually eating very much of him (sort of a Meow-Mix-kibble-eater - sort of a vegetarian feline, in fact). Does anyone know of a forensic rodent expect I could call on?

Each and every day, we as individuals on earth perch our own little set of fractured and stained lenses on our noses to begin the day. We all peer out, blinking through the streaming waterfall of tears, completely unaware of the major cracks, smears and distortions of the glasses, and throughout the day, frantically sorting out the images stumbling through to our brain to achieve some sense of stability. Whatever kaleidoscope splintered binge gets into our neural pathways becomes our reality.

And, of course, our burned and ingrained bits of gray matter scream "Of course this is the way! There is no other!" in shrill fright of any other course will cause us to 'die' in some improbable and most certainly very painful emotional way. It takes an incredibly sense of bravery to step out into that void, beyond your own world, to discover that 'their' path/stairs may be just as read and solid as your own. The anticipated pain dissolves as your feet stay on either your pathway, or you make the first tentative step over to the radically-alternated reality, seen 'their' way. But we all remain unalterably fixated on the truth of 'our' way, even as we make condensation for others.

So what is all this high-flaunting-psychobabble worth? For me, it can only serve as a humble reminder that even though I, of course, recognize the 'real' truth, and am the ONLY correct one ( ) to do so ( ), it does not change the other individuals' perception, their reality, their 'truth,' unless they actually put on your reality - your glasses, with their fractures, cracks and colorations.

Unless, of course, you realize there is very much at least one individual with 20/20 vision of what's going on right now, what we are supposed to learn from it, what we are to change in ourselves, how we are supposed to cope with it. And again, it is deliberately giving up OUR view, and accepting Heavenly Father's counsel and advice from his eternal view. Quite suddenly our view can go far beyond the individual petty disagreements, and the love our Father has for ALL of his stumbling, half-blind children comes into focus.

And that's the thing we are supposed to learn here, I think - that's the big lesson - to love each other regardless of what blithering idiots we all are to each other. And you know that I am right!!!....... right? ;-)

This morning, my life flashed before my eyes. Well, it wasn't actually my eyes, it was the greyhound, who streaked past me through the open front door, and took off for whatever greyhound haven she was certain was right down the road.

I had gotten very spoiled with our previous grey, who would go out and 'play' greyhound a couple of times a day, run at a 45 degree angle to the ground as she careened sharply around the house once or twice, come back in, and sleep the rest of the day. And my own dog can wander off for hours, and always returns happy, smiling and tired (and yes, he is neutered, so it's not that type of smile, you dirty-minded reader you)..

Thankfully on this occasion, Dehlia only ran about thirty yards and then turned around and came right back. Whew!

I am getting that all-too-familiar tightness in my throat today. I'm helping to M.C. a church talent show tonight, have a piano to tune tomorrow as well as a dental appointment. Which is nothing compared to when I also was working full-time.

However, I am feeling just a tad guilty - I mean, I'm home full-time, animals instead of kids, with albeit slow Internet access and lots of projects which I am happily completing for the first time in seven years. And several people have offered me jobs - I just don't want to. Money is embarrassingly tight, considering the amount of money my husband brings in - credit card debt, county and state taxes doubled in one year, a kid in college and one kid who still needs financial assistance every month despite being on just about every state low-income program there is (and there are a lot here, thank goodness).

I've asked repeatedly for some financial advice from my bishop, who feels that this should be discussed with both of us - and if we can solve the communication problems, we can work this out together. HA! I think hell will freeze over first. I can understand some of my spouse's attitude - he is terrified he is going to be 'found out' and lose his job (incredibly low-self esteem - I mean, negative numbers in three digits), never will plan a budget, and simply blows up when the subject is introduced... therefore, he then doesn't to deal with, and I'm left holding the (symbolically) empty wallet and the not-paid bills.

Thanks - this is just an open-air journal, but it does help to write it down. Clears my mind... which actually is a pretty scary thought, because it's not carrying that much in it anyway!

I just heard the gayest thing I've heard for a while on a 70's Hits cable station - "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow"... sung by a guy. Now it's back to normal ("Feel Like Makin' Love" by Bad Company) - but that's a question women ask, not men.

Weird.

And my daughter seems to be trapped in a 50's sitcom tonight; I'm a little bit worried about her. However, since her son is showing that her photographic genius is obviously being passed on, I will set that aside for the moment.

May I only add that each generation ('cept maybe Adam and Eve) looks back with fond remembrance of the 'old' days, which life was simpler, easier, and made more sense. When you are living through it, however, it's not a pretty site at times. So I will continue to stress the adage - "Just think, in six months, this will all be just a funny story to tell."

I must mention how much I enjoyed an antique, discarded trinket of years (months?) long past - 'someone's' old iPod shuffle. Radio station reception is less than perfect this far south (unless you like Mexican rock and very bad sombero music), and I absolutely savoured the half-hour drive into town this afternoon, listening to Randy Newman, Five for Fighting and Smashmouth. Even better was the fact that at least 75% of the songs I was playing I never would have HEARD unless I had been in California for that year. Hurrah for MP3 downloads, and my introduction to the iPod!

Okay, I am really confused right now. I have a self-acknowledged 'emotionally-crippled' family member, who has difficulty with any emotion other than anger (is very comfortable with anger, rage, aggression, etc.). Has a very honest fear of being hurt, of losing control (hmm, maybe I have more than one of those, now that I come to think of it) of situations. Will not let themselves love beyond certain limits.

This same individual (the first one afore-mentioned, we'll just let the other control-personality go for a minute) did allow a certain degree of emotional involvement with a pet, and was crushed when she died, approximately two years ago. Now we have another pet, and the same attachment is rapidly developing.

Okay, back to control-personality #2, who pointed out the absurdity of allowing such feelings to develop with an animal instead of blood-relatives-family-members (i.e. HUMAN) relationships. I can recognize that the 'safety' of such a involvement, especially with a canine (remind me some time to give you the outline of my talk on Murray's Christ-like attributes) who can be so incredibly forgiving.

Today? I think I am happy that this individual (back to #1 in this short series of lectures) was NOT emotionally-available at the time that my children, at least, were growing up.

Because this 'newer' canine has been walked an incredible amount of times, and a ridiculous distance (at least in my limited view of what is acceptable as a Sunday afternoon stroll) because (are you ready) she has NOT had a bowel movement... TODAY. Not for the last three days, not showing any pain or discomfort, not acting any different... but has not (as of 22:13 tonight) as of now.

Can you imagine this type of behaviour with three children, all within four years of each other?! I think it might have driven me even MORE crazy that the emotional indifference.

Well, it was nice while it lasted, but it ended at 7:20 p.m. tonight. I wish I knew what switch suddenly got turned off, and it would be wonderful if I could just reach over and click it back on. A good night's sleep may make some difference, but I doubt it. So it was, what, six days? A nice six days - could have been a lot less.

I did feel like an abusive parent this evening. I have been separating the horses at feeding time because the mare will stand aside and let the colt eat most of her share (why I still call that soon-to-be six year old spoiled gelding a colt is beyond me). The colt (who cares, it's kinda like your youngest is your baby no matter how long they get) gets put in the corral, and the mare left in the pasture... where she has access to water.

And Friday night is becoming an pattern - Bill and I go to our little food joint in our small rural community, and I bus tables and help the cook out during the dinner 'rush.' It's fun, we joke around, and Bill gets a free piece of pie.

However, tonight, I FORGOT about the colt. It wasn't days, he wasn't dying of thirst, but I sure as heck felt like a horrible mother. Sort of like finding out your baby has been in a messy diaper for six hours (although I don't think I'm going to go out and put Desitin on my horse's butt).

And somebody just wandered out of their room (yes, in their garments, and to get something to eat), and sort of put it all together: "I can't leave the terrorist stuff alone; I feel like I am losing the edge that keeps me good at my job." He's been off work all week, even let his assistant handle a last-minute (albeit important) meeting - I think he is suddenly feeling very insecure that his office HAS survived a week withOUT him.

Hmmmm.

Have I ever told you how proud I am of one specific child I have? She went literally across country to college by herself (well, actually, she and I drove cross-country, but then she was all on her own) and graduated with an A.S. in a year and a half. She married well (finally took my advice after a few years about whom she should wed), has been an incredibly supportive military spouse during six-month deployments and the normal crazy military moves and household changes, is raising two incredibly wonderful kids (the fact that they are my grandchildren isn't coloring my vision at all, right?), has had held various church leadership positions and had proved herself capable to doing LOTS more than she thought she was capable of.

Moreover, now that she has a VERY good camera, she may soon prove herself to be an outstanding professional photographer.

Hope her head doesn't get too swelled by reading this, but I just wanted to let her know what a wonderful person I think she is (and no, I am not expecting any discount on my future counseling session, honest).