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August and Everything After

This is from an email I sent out earlier this month, in order to jump start my blogging once again:

You may have heard, either from myself or one of the news outlets, that we had a day last month with a temperature of 102! It's true! Well, last night, we experienced almost the inverse of that...
We had tickets for Joan Baez, who was playing at the zoo, less than two miles away. The zoo concerts are pretty mellow affairs, 6 p.m. start time, a mostly older crowd, some small children, nothing too obnoxious. We made a picnic lunch to take, packed a blanket and some low seating. As we were packing up, Mark noticed it had started to raining. We found some rain gear, put on hats, grabbed a large umbrella. The zoo doesn't cancel on account of rain.
Naturally, all the parking near the zoo was full up, so we found street parking about a quarter mile from the entrance. It was now raining steadily, not that lovely mizzle (mist-drizzle) that we normally experience in summer, but a regular October rain. We huffed up a hill and found the ticketholders line right outside the gate. At least that's where it started...
The rain got heavier, a late November rain, and as we marched to the end of the line, some six blocks, I marveled that the show was sold out. Not such an odd thing in and of itself, until you see the hundreds of people in slickers, armed with tarps and plastic. Only one woman was offering her tickets for sale on account of the weather. The rest of us were just going to tough it out, which is how we do it in Seattle. If we let the rain dictate our actions, we'd almost never get to go outside. LOL
On the zoo grounds, there was little in the way of protection from the elements, and those few spaces were well populated, so Mark and I resigned ourselves to sitting on the middle of the field, in the grass. "It's gonna let up any minute now", I kept repeating. We made an agreement that we would leave if we got too squishy. Even with the rain, people packed in around us.
Once you resign yourself to the fact that you're going to be wet, there's nothing else for it but to enjoy yourself. We brought wine in a water flask, ate our sandwiches and laughed. Joan seemed quite surprised that the crowd was so large...she called us her "rain people" and admitted that this would never have come about in CA.
And then, about midway through the second song....yup, the rain slowed. By the third song, it had stopped entirely. We took down our umbrella and so did everyone else, and you could finally see the stage. Woo-hoo! Joan played "Diamonds and Rust", telling us we deserved it for sitting out in the rain. She has a great sense of humor...singing the last of "Don't Think Twice" in an exaggerated Bob Dylan accent. Hilarious!

Once we got home, we put all our clothes in the dryer and Mark made hot chocolate. What a great evening.

MYOB

MYOB, as most folks know, means mind your own business. People will say this to you if they think you're being nosy...perhaps you overhear a conversation and have something to add, or a solution to a problem. But, as with so many other things, it's not black and white. How do you know if someone means well, or if you should just remind them: MYOB?
Generally, I try to mind my own business, I really do. Other times, I struggle with whether or not to get involved. My question to myself is always this...is it going to hurt, or help?
Case in point; yesterday we were in Corvallis, Oregon. There was a yarn shop I was interested in, so we drove by it in the morning. It didn't look open. Mark suggested we at least peek in the windows, so we parked and walked up towards the door. The sign in a window said they opened @ 10 a.m., and it was just after nine, so we'd have to come back. Then we noticed something very odd about the door.
Fiber Nooks and Crannies had been broken into. A piece of the door frame had been broken off, the latch was ajar, and the strike plate had been pried away and thrown into the bushes. We backed away from the door. Was someone in there?
We honestly weren't sure what to do...I was concerned that someone might think we were the ones who had broken in!
We walked down to the corner and called the police. Then, we washed the car, because the car wash was right next door to the yarn store. As we went through rinse cycle, some police officers showed up. I think I scared them, because one of them jumped when I said hello. They checked the door, pulled their pistols, announced their presence and went in. No one was there. None of the merchandise had been touched, thereby eliminating the possibility of a crazy crafter trying to finish a project at the last minute.
When we returned later and were checking out, the owner realized only then that her place had been broken into and that the cash drawer had been stolen.
She felt violated, needless to say. Mark and I hadn't intended to say anything to her, but she clearly had not been informed by the police of the break-in. We were obligated to tell her that much. I felt badly because no one had even called her! The officers left a card in the (broken) door with the report number, which she hadn't seen because she entered in the back and simply unlocked the front door from within; no indication of anything wrong.
I hope she feels better. I know I feel better for doing something besides minding my own business.

Mami Wata

After what seems like an awful lot of trouble, I am finally able to show you the work I created for 150 Feet of Art.
This is Mami Wata, a goddess of Africa and its diaspora (I really like being able to use the word "diaspora" in a sentence!). She is known by many names...La Sirene in Haiti, Yemanya in Brazil, for example. I was introduced to her the day before I was asked to contribute my work, through an article in the NY Times about a show at the Smithsonian. I find her and her history captivating... she may be a recent addition to many mythologies, which demonstrates that mythology is not dead or stagnant; it still breathes and evolves.
I tried very hard to create her in an authentic folk style. I (mostly) used only materials I already had on hand, and I feel kind of bad about that, because I have access to more art supplies than the people in many of these countries could ever dream of. On the other hand, I DID get to use the stuff I've been hoarding forever!

She is a strong woman, beautiful and somewhat vain. The gods and goddesses of the African diaspora are every bit as human as those of Greek mythology, and I like that better than Christianity's supposedly infallible God. The spiral beads covering her breasts are snakes; some of the iconography I've seen shows her with the serpents wrapped around her arms, but other articles I've read describe her breasts as actual snakes. It's voudou-esque, and I liked the thought of it very much. In fact, my inspiration was a Haitian voudou banner.
Clearly, I need lessons in drawing anatomy, but that's part of the charm. I could have copied someone else's torso, but this is ALL me.
Mami Wata haunted me for the entire month of April...I couldn't turn around without running into her someplace, and that's not including the Starbucks mermaid. No, she was on tv, billboards, a cup that I rediscovered after nearly twenty years. It couldn't have been clearer that I was on the right track.

I feel my representation is alive, living and breathing, like the mythology from which she swims forth. And if no one else finds her intriguing enough to make her a part of their home, I'm okay with that. It will only mean she's supposed to come home to me, and if that happens, I intend to create a lovely altar for her.

They Say It's Your Birthday...

and not half bad, for having it at work. Yup, I have, as Mark likes to say, made another trip around the sun.
It's a beautiful, sunny day, I had lunch with a friend, one co-worker brought me a ginormous cookie as a gift, and another, a bottle of wine. At 4 p.m., I'm going to pop a cork and have my own Happy (Birthday) Hour. I got to wear a tiara to work and NO ONE minded!
I do think every woman should have a tiara. It goes along with that Scandinavian saying: "In every woman there is a queen. Speak to the queen and the queen will answer." Queens like tiaras. And it helps to make you feel beautiful, even if all you're wearing is a t-shirt and jeans. It makes you sit taller in your chair and accentuates your crown chakra. I also believe every woman ought to have a feather boa, but I won't go down that road...today.
I will say this...one day isn't nearly enough to celebrate!

Arting

Where the heck did April go? I remember starting it, but it seems to have sped on quickly without me.
Yup it's been busy, and kind of weird, but not with its happy moments.
Currently, I'm working on some art. I know, I'm always working on something, but this includes a...deadline. Yikes!
I was attending an opening for my friend, Zeke, on April 3rd. June, the curator of the show, was giving a blank canvas to someone, and I asked if it was time for the fundraiser that the gallery does, called 150 Feet of Art. Yes, she said, and then added, " You should submit a work this year, Kendyl".
I could have said no; in fact, I usually say no. I am not all that confident in my abilities as an artist. On a good day, I consider myself a dilettante, which may explain my limited success at most endeavors. Like Socrates, I don't claim to know anything, and that attitude has manifested itself in my professional life.

However, June caught me off guard, and with no hesitation, I replied, "Okay!".
So before I knew it, I was holding a one foot square canvas. In the car on the way home, I started having ideas. And that's what I've been doing.

I don't want to give it away, not just yet. I will post a photo of the work here before I submit it. The due date is May 1st, which is also my birthday. Just one of the many little "coincidences" the Universe has been sending my way of late.

It's funny; as nervous as it makes me feel when I think of all the other, more experienced artists who will be participating, I know that I'm doing the right thing. The coincidences are signs, if you will. I've never had so many clear signs in my life, ever.
The Universe is finally giving me a freaking map. Yippee!

OMG!

As I watched "Reno 911" tonight, I noticed one of the new actors was named Ian Roberts. I performed in a play with a guy named Ian Roberts @ Grinnell College. It was kind of an odd play...all about the randomness of life.

Turns out, it's the very same Ian Roberts! He was a lovely guy who lived down the hall from my friend, Tracy, and was very accommodating toward us two silly girls who loved to torment him with chocolate pudding/orange sherbet concoctions as well as weird quotes on his memo board. All three of us were in the play, so we spent quite a bit of time together.
Someone I worked with is on the telly! How cool is that? Hurrah!

A Little Faith

On Wednesday, as is my habit, I was at the Pike Place Market before going to work. There I saw the most amazing and wonderful dog...her name is Faith. You may have seen her on "Oprah". She has no front legs and actually stands on her hind legs to walk. I couldn't believe it; I stopped and stared, then ran over as she was crossing the street.
She didn't care much for the bricks making up the pavement and struggled, so one of her human companions carried her across. As they got to the curb, I ran up and asked her name, if I could give her a treat. She looked tired and I couldn't even begin to imagine how hard it must be for her. I gave her the cookie from my pocket and left before I began crying...I'm a sucker for a pretty face and a sad story (just ask Sparky!).
I wish I had gotten a photo with my mobile phone, but even better for you, I've embedded the Oprah segment from YouTube. Watch it, and see if you don't start to tear up. It's beautiful, inspirational and sad, all at the same time.

Just a Little Email

I've done too much online shopping in my computer life, and it shows in the sheer numbers of ads for sales and such that my inbox receives. One day I'll go through them and un-subscribe to the ones that I do not need, i.e., about 90%. It will undoubtedly make my life a little less cluttered.
For today, though, there was one email that I was REALLY excited about...

Hi aunty Kendle it's me Justin. Thank you for the presents. I really liked them. Espicially the science expirement book. I like to watch the life with Derek. School has ben grest because I made lots of friends. Baseball seasons is coming up, I'm gonna be on a team. I'm not sure witch team I'm on. I hope i'm on my friend Austins team.
Will right back. LOVE JUSTIN

Justin is my nephew, my godchild. He's 11. He loves sports, but he's also a very good writer. I think about him every day. I cannot tell you how thrilled I was to get an email from him. I'd love for him to come to Seattle.

Daffodils!

More Randominity

A few more random things about me...

1. I used to have my left eyebrow pierced. Nature and my nephew took care of that one.

2. Selective Service once came after me because I didn't register. No, I have not had gender re-assignment surgery.

3. My left heel had a run-in with the spokes of a bicycle when I was two. Doctors grafted skin from the top of my foot to my heel.

4. Snoopy is my idol.

5. My blood type is B positive.(Isn't that a no-brainer?LOL)

6. I secretly love to read People magazine.

7. Five women I would love to have to dinner include: Doris Chase, Frida Kahlo, Edith Piaf, Jennifer Saunders and Alice B. Toklas.

8. My one full sibling died at the age of four months.

9. My totem animals are fox and otter.

10. I came thisclose to being named Mando or Vio. If you don't get it, think about my maiden name. Then think about my half brother's poor daughter, who is named Brooke.

The Almost

The word "almost" gets a bad rap. I remember my grandma saying, "Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades", to which I would reply, " And probably atomic bombs, too", which would get me the evil eye and possibly a smack upside the head.
However, I've learned that "almost" is actually a good thing. You can take the attitude about almost being equivalent to failure and stick it in the recycle bin. If given the choice between doing something "almost" and not doing it at all, I'll take "almost", almost every time. Almost means you tried, and maybe learned something in the process. Almost means you are that much closer to getting it right.
I had an "almost" this morning. It was the last morning of my yoga immersion, which also means no more getting up at 30 minutes to dawn, at least until I feel a need to do it again.
Yoga is about balance...the body and the mind. Balance is not one of my strong suits, especially when it comes to balance poses. I tend to fall over, which is funny to watch when I'm attempting tree pose. I always have to keep from yelling "Tiiiimber!" as I lose what small bit of dignity I may have had. Thank the Great Mother for a sense of humor.
Aubrey, our instructor, had us doing the side plank pose this morning. Side plank, when correctly done, looks like this:I have never, ever been able to do side plank pose. Not even leaning against the wall, which is my trick for tree, half moon, etc. Face plant is inevitable.
But this morning was different. Without the wall behind me, I opted to try a modified side plank, leaning on my forearm. It's an "almost". I used one leg as a kind of kickstand, and then moved it into place next to the other leg.
By gum, it worked! I was shaky, and maybe lasted only thirty seconds. But I definitely did an "almost" side plank. Aubrey noticed and ran over to congratulate me, whereupon I crashed to the floor, breathing "Mother of...".

I'm going to keep trying, because it almost felt great!

As much as I consider myself a music aficionado, I am woefully out of touch with the current music scene. This is made even more ridiculous considering I work in the midst of some of the finest music writers on the West Coast. However, I DO read what's being written. I have been getting quite an education, recently, on the state of hip-hop in Seattle. I'm not buying much music, but boy, I can talk your eyebrows off about it.

Artificial intellectualism notwithstanding, I recently bought an album. Seriously, I haven't purchased music in months. I can't even tell you who recommended the album. I might have even seen it on (shudder) television. It doesn't matter. There is a great, rollicking, rocking song on this album and I want to share it with you. Here is a link to a version of it, via YouTube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MPUbwM-robA&feature=related

For me, it's one of those songs...one that will make me dance no matter where I am or what I'm doing. It's a great song to bounce you away from the Pit of Despair, if you're hovering near there. Sometimes we need a song like that to remind us of the joy as well as the pain of living.

"Keep bringin' it the rest of your life..."

By Your Leave

A wise man named Tom Browning once taught me an important lesson: Nobody "makes" you mad. It's your choice to get mad. People like to press buttons, and get reactions. I'm seriously guilty of this, but I'm approaching it from another angle, so bear with me...
The key word here is "choice". We all have choices. They start the moment we choose to open our eyes in the morning. When someone says something to provoke, it's your choice to react. You could stop and think, "Why did he/she do that?" Many times however, we choose so quickly that it doesn't even seem like a choice. It may even be a choice you made long ago to react in that way every time a similar situation arises, so of course it doesn't seem like you thought about it.
I've been reading a little bit about a couple in the news. I think they're R&B singers. They had a fight, I guess, and he struck her. What gets me is the comments I've read about it: She "made" him mad, so he hit her. She deserved it.
Let me say this: NO. She said something, or did something, and his "choice" was to get angry. His choice was to strike her. He didn't have to get angry, he didn't have to hit her. He could have asked for a time out, or left the room. He could have tried to talk about the situation. She did not MAKE him do anything. She is not responsible for his emotions, just like you are not responsible for mine. Nobody, but nobody, deserves being hit, either. Even if it doesn't hurt much, it's a shock to the system.

I am basically a happy person. I choose it. You can call me "Pollyanna" and all other kinds of names. Fine. But this may be the only life I get, and I want to enjoy it all I can. That means being happy, because I've found I get a lot farther with a smile than with a sneer. It hasn't always been the case, and I've had people blame me for "making" them mad. ("I wouldn't hit you if you wouldn't make me mad!") I don't take it anymore.

But let's get along to today's reason to celebrate: I'm a happy person. Things can happen that are entirely out of my control, but I try not to blame others. Not always easy. People who are supposed to be helpful are not, often through no fault of their own.
Today was not one of those instances. I was having trouble with a credit card. It was coming up declined, even though I paid the bill just last week. I called the number for customer service, and got a lovely lady named Ms. Harris. She told me what the problem was, got the card reinstated, and told me about her son and daughter. She was happy to have a pleasant customer to speak with, and I was happy to be that customer. We could have spent all day talking on the phone. When we finished, I asked to speak to her supervisor. I'm sure these folks hear complaints all the time. We all complain about bad customer service, but I wanted to talk to someone about GOOD customer service.
I was connected to her supervisor, and told him how courteous, how pleasant, and how helpful she had been. How I wanted to make sure she was recognized for her good work. I think he was a bit startled. But I've worked with the public. We tend to forget we're talking to other human beings, whether in New Delhi or Delaware. I appreciate when someone treats me as such, and I know she did, too.
I didn't "make" her happy. She was already that way. What I did was to choose to deepen that happiness a little, by adding my own. Come on in! The happiness is fine.

Cold Rain & Snow

Today's weather report from Seattle is also the title of a Grateful Dead song. If the song doesn't make you feel bad, this climate just might!
Still, I've very little room to complain, especially when I've stood outside the tent city, Nickelsville, waiting for my bus. I might have been cold and damp, but I have a house to go home to. My source of heat is not based in a trash barrel. Just something to consider....
It began snowing/raining while I was having lunch. I had a craving after watching Anthony Bourdain last night, and knew that I could fulfill it in the University district, where I transfer from the 48 to the 70 on the way to an appointment.
Ah, Tony, you are such a bad boy, talking about food porn. All I could think about last night was your yen, which quickly became mine. And the weather was perfect for it!
This, if you don't already know, is pho (say, "fuh"). It is to Vietnamese grandmothers what chicken soup is to Jewish bubbes. It is hot and filling and soothing. It comes with condiments to add: jalapeno peppers, basil leaves, bean sprouts, lime and a hot pepper sauce that'll definitely cure what ails you.

My favorite restaurant for pho is Than Brothers. It's not a fancy place, and not expensive. The bowl in the photo ran me five dollars plus change, and that's the small size. The extra large looks like you could bathe an infant and your dog in it. I wouldn't try that, though. Ruins the taste.
Walk in the door, and someone brusquely asks how many of you there are. If you're alone, as I was, they sit you at a communal table in the middle of the room. You barely have a chance to take off your coat before you're asked if you're ready to order. Luckily, the menu is kind of limited; all pho, different kinds of meat. I confess, I've never tried it with tripe. Bleah. Anthony Bourdain would never give me a second glance.
Quickly, a plate arrives with your condiments, and wonder of wonders: a cream puff. The story is that one of the brothers has a wife who was trained in French pastry, and they offered the cream puffs, gratis, to help the business. They are GOOD. So good, I asked my husband, Mark, for them instead of cake for my birthday one year. The filling, a cross between custard and cream, is perfect.

And then the pho... a steaming bowl of goodness. When I looked up for the first time after inhaling about half my bowl, I saw it was snowing...and raining, at the same time. Students from the university hustled by, cringing with cold.
Me? I just smiled. I'd be out in it soon enough, but with the power of pho. Yum.

Jumping On The Bandwagon: Random Things

It seems like everyone's been listing about themselves recently. So in the interest of getting to know me better (Cue song from "The King and I"), here's mine...

Random Things About Me

1. Even though I live in Seattle, I prefer tea over coffee.

2. My secret artistic fantasy is to live in Venice and apprentice to become a maskmaker.

3. My religious background is Roman Catholic and Jehovah's Witness. More the former than the latter.

4. The name of my house is "La Casita Arancia", in honor of Frida Kahlo.
And yes, it is both small and orange.

5. My favorite flower is lilac.

6. I'm a late life Deadhead. My first show was Autzen Stadium, Eugene, OR, in August, 1993.

7. I trained to be a pastry cook.

8. When I was six, I tried to run away from home to become Tina Louise.

9. Someday, I'd like to go to Rio for Carnival.

10. The first ceremony I ever "birthed" was a vow renewal for my friends Jen and Tom.


Now, are you ready to tell me 10 random things about yourself? I'd love to know...

Kendyl Linn-Sanchez, Girl Reporter

Hot New Real Estate Selling Point: Proximity to Baranof
Posted today at 4:20 pm by Damon Agnos
Greenwood has a lot to offer prospective homebuyers—quiet streets, parks, coffee shops, and, of course, a certain on-the-rocks, pirate-themed, stiff-drink-serving, karaoke diner/dive.

Thanks to SW superstar receptionist Kendyl Linn-Sanchez for the tip and photo.

Brenda Starr has nothing on me! I was out walking in my neighborhood when I saw the above flyer. I snapped a photo with my mobile and showed it to the Weekly's managing editor and our writing fellow. They loved it, especially our editor, who is an aficionado of such places.

Secretly, I've wanted to make a contribution to the paper ever since I began working there in November of '07, but never told anyone, because I was "just" the receptionist. But evidently, a SUPERSTAR receptionist!

And...breathe!

Today was a day of decompression. I spent a lot of time getting prepared for my first craft fair, so much that the event itself could have been a letdown. But I was prepared for that, too.
It was a slow day...simply not a lot of people. The more seasoned artisans faulted the Superbowl. Everyone was, presumably, at a party before the game.
It didn't matter to me, though I will admit to having set a monetary goal that I didn't reach. I had three customers plus two trades with other artists, and I made back the money I paid for entering the fair. Good enough for my first day out.

What I had not prepared for was the level of exhaustion I felt afterward. Utterly pooped! I was in bed by nine p.m. (with extra good reason; I started a yoga immersion series this morning at 6), after a GINORMOUS dinner of Indian food, and one glass of wine once I was home to stay.
It wasn't easy getting up early. However, it was even easier to fall under the spell of horizontality again!
I treated myself to a swim in the afternoon, then a chai with my dear friend Jenna at a coffeehouse where we basked in the buttery afternoon light and talked.
Even now, I am tired; but tomorrow, it's back on the horse. Things to do, people to see. The big hurdle is behind me, and a new, artistic path lies in front of me. I wonder what will happen...

Saying Yes

I was introduced to the power of yes by Shauna Ahern, a lovely lady who writes a blog (and also has a book!) called, "Gluten-Free Girl". Even if you have no issues with gluten, it's a positively yummy blog!
Shauna has the word "yes" tattooed on her arm. It's a reminder. When she began saying yes to life, life started saying yes in return. Really. It's something you want to believe, but sometimes have trouble doing. We are SO programmed to say no because we're a little afraid of where life will take us. No is control. No is two feet planted firmly on the ground. But no is boring.
Today, Shauna came to mind while I was on my way to work. I was going to cut through Pike Place Market, as is my habit on Wednesdays, past Rachel the pig, the buskers, and down the stairs. I love the Market, but that's a tale for another day.
A young guy was stationed near the buskers with a pedi-cab. "Free ride?", he asked. I had to stop and think. "Maybe on your way back?", he said hopefully.
And then I remembered Shauna and yes. What the hell...
I have never ridden in a pedi-cab before. It made me feel kind of special. He zipped me into the covered cab and off we went. Down Pike Place, left on Western and down the hill. I felt like I should wave at everyone we were passing.

He's just starting out in this business. Not a lot of work to be had this time of year, but hey, someone said yes to him. Even if I was just a local.

Thank you Shauna, for giving me the power of yes and turning an ordinary Wednesday into something special.

Face to Face With the Next Step

Before my friend Marcia was "my friend Marcia", she was the instructor/facilitator in a workshop I took. One night, she gave us all a photocopied cartoon of a dog on a staircase, his forehead butted against the oncoming stair. It's titled, "Face to face with the next step". I kept it and put it on the side of my refrigerator. While I was doing my morning pages today, it caught my eye, and I smiled.

On Sunday, for the first time, I will be selling my own stuff at a craft fair. Decoupaged switchplate covers, to be exact. I am terrified (what if no one buys anything? what if someone tells me my stuff is ugly, imperfect?), overwhelmed and excited. I am face to face with the next step.

I know, it's not rocket science...it's paper glued onto a light switch cover. But it's MY work. It took over two years just to get this far, to find something I thought I could do, to shut down the nasty little inner censor that tells me I'm foolish, untalented and just plain stupid for even thinking I could be an artist. My head was butted up against that step for so long, it hurt to think. And I know it's not finished. I know I'll wrestle with it every day that I choose to make creativity my life.

My goal for the future is to create shrines and altars and combine it with my Celebrancy practice, focusing particularly on individuals who have been seriously ill and are making a transition back to "normalcy". I would also like to work with those men and women who know they are facing the last journey of this life, and would like to do it in a way that makes them happy. Everyone deserves that much.
For the nonce, however, I'm face to face with the next step, and ready to climb. Keep your fingers crossed!

A Return From the Pit of Despair

Depression is funny...and I don't mean humorous, though it can be. Depression makes you abandon your interests, your values, the people that love you.
You sit at the bottom of a pit, just you and the dark. Sometimes a little light peeks in, and you see just how sad you are. The phone rings, and you don't answer. You don't want to...you just want to sit with your gloomy friend, who doesn't want to share you.
This has been my existence for the past year plus. It hasn't been that way ALL the time, but a lot of it. I've done stupid things in the name of depression. I've gotten most of the way out of the pit, only to fall back in.
I don't mean to be a downer, but this is the explanation for not keeping up on my blog.
Now, I've decided to make a return. I have tools to help me, and people to take my hand, if I just ask. That's hard for me to do. I've done damage to relationships and often don't feel I have the right to ask for anything.

However, this week has shown me that life is still worth celebrating. We have a new president, and even as bad as things are, I can tell people are hopeful. There are smiles from strangers on the street. The gallows humor is dissipating.
It's not going to be easy, not the economy, not the depression. We will stand on the edge and wonder if we should just let gravity pull us back into the pit. It feels so much easier, so comfortable to be with our gloomy friend.

Fight it. It will be worth it. I promise.