Another year. As usual, winter doesn’t start until January. Need the rain, natch.

Why is it so hard for me to take the time to write unless I put a little pressure on myself? (This time, a task on Finch. I highly recommend the app, btw.)

Scored some great booze via a vendor today. I plan on asking my friends to try it for me. Darling’s first, of course. 🙂

Grief just sucks. Like hardcore. I saw something online today that suggested re-channeling the emotional pain of grief into loving yourself more. Not sure how I feel about that. I see the merit in it, for sure. Seems like way easier said than done, though. (I write in Valley Girl, apparently.)

Lost a friend just before her 42nd bday. To paraphrase a line from Mad Men, she was thirsty and died of thirst. Life wasn’t kind to her, but she did her best to be a good person. So now I call a single crochet a Puddle in memory of her. My mind’s eye is always going to picture her smiling.

My winters used to be so much worse. I used to start dreading them in September. Caretaking always sucked the most in the winter. It was pretty much guaranteed that the morning would suck. The level of suck varied each day. The couple days before a storm were always rough. Had to make sure we had everything we needed to survive being snowed in for days. At least once it actually snowed Kevin would feel better and the view was spectacular. Then I could spend a little time making a slideshow of pics so I could show friends and family all the snow and icicles. I’m glad I took the time to do that back then. It was a fun little hobby, alongside of the podcast.

But the grief…. it hurts so much. Like want-to-destroy-perfectly-good-things-just-to-rechannel-the-pain type of hurt. Yet I don’t really want to destroy things. I’ve lost enough. Who needs to lose more, especially when I can’t necessarily replace anything I’d destroy?

Ok. Enough rambling. Other things to do.