Catching Up

A few weeks ago a friend of mine made the comment, "It feels like you're out of town right now", and it DID feel that way. I think I'm heading back. The last of my family left today (bye Suz!) and it feels a bit lonely but I also need, and am ready, to get back into my life again.

The week was very surreal. My list of things to do included both *go to the mortuary* and *wrap presents*, and then, the day before my mom's memorial, my book came out. I'd been waiting for that to happen for months (years actually) and then when it did, It was tough conjuring up any excitement. But last night I sat down and looked through it and read the copyright date and the table of contents and saw that it really has an ISBN number and I realized that I have a published book. That felt good. If anyone would like a copy, there's a link on the right hand side of this blog for Two Dogs Press. There are some other wonderful books on there too so take a look.

Some other things from the last month that I have not blogged about but might have.....I brewed a good beer, and ESB, and bottled it. Pictures of the bottles to come later, this is the beer (the wort) boiling away. It's pretty darn good. Also, it snowed 20 inches here and is flipping cold (single digits at night). And also too, when I was at Sonic drive-in, the girl who delivers the food dropped a large slush into the window crack of my car. And I mean INTO. My window was open all the way and the slush cup fell apart as she was handing it over. So it went down into the door and now, when I open the window, it makes a sound like a very masculine cat having it's toenails removed with tweezers. I made the manager write a note regarding the slush incident and sign it so after the holidays, I'm going to deal with THAT.

My mom's memorial was beautiful. My brother and sister both spoke and told stories about her, and two of my friends read poems. I read this passage from The Prophet, which is my quote for the day....

On Joy and Sorrow
Kahlil Gibran

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.