||“Children and hot fluid should be kept apart.” Sage advice from the side of my French-press coffee brewer.
A new reader of One Life (that brings my total readership to three or four) has been bravely going into the Archives and posting comments and likes (thank you, Katherine and your wonderful Photobooth Journal), inspiring me to delve back into the past. I was surprised to find how far back One Life goes – all the way back to February of 2005. I spent far too much of yesterday afternoon pawing around, reacquainting myself with myself.
What I found was a personal journal, musing about what I was doing day-to-day, observations about my early experiences with multiple sclerosis, family and work life. Usually there was a photograph attached, although the links have long expired so I don’t know what the pictures were of. Lots of links to other sites, odd things found online, what music was playing as I wrote, those links long expired too. In the end, the record is only interesting to me, and even then, not very.
But I feel inspired to get back on the horse. To stop taking myself and my blogging so seriously. What paralyzes me now is the self-imposed notion that each post has to be a fully thought out and insightful essay. I have a folder on my hard drive of barely begun such essays, writings that invariably get tangled up with lost threads and wind up pointless. Almost as if I was writing for an audience, and not just for myself. Imagine that!
Well, no more. I’m going to write what I want. I hope you’ll come along for the ride and share your thoughts; I’d love for this to be as much of a conversation as it can be.
What’s playing: Sweet Jane. Thanks, as always, to Radio Paradise, the best radio station ever.
My new normal is always today. Yesterday is so yesterday, and tomorrow never knows. Chronic illness encourages mindfullness.
I’ve lived with a lot of cats. Ever since I was a kid, there has always been a cat or two around the house. I don’t remember all of their names, but a house is more of a home when there is a cat in it. There is a different kind of consciousness at work in a cat, something mysterious and intriguing. I love their distinct personalities and their independence. Cats can see things we can’t.
There are currently three cats living with us – Toki Wartooth (Not A Bumblebee), Jiji The Little Black Cat, and Tombo. Toki’s name is drawn from a universe beyond my understanding, Jiji’s and Tombo’s from the movie Kiki’s Delivery Service, a family favorite. My daughter named them all, and did a fine job of it, I think. Toki is the oldest, rescued from the mean streets of Belfast, Maine as a feral little kitten. The other two were properly fostered and, while not blood relatives, were raised together and function as brother and sister.
I love all three of them, but Tombo especially fascinates me. I’ve never met a cat like him. His facial expressions and body language are unique (I’ve never seen a cat do that head-cocking thing that dogs do when working something out), and no one can nap like he can. He is very photogenic. Click on the photo below to see my tribute to Tombo.
I ‘ve been out and about with my bad motor scooter – taking the short bus to Freeport (home to Maine’s #2 tourist destination, L.L. Bean, and a very accessible little downtown), and to Falmouth, and yesterday into Portland for a spin around the Museum of Fine Arts (to be dazzled by Georgia O’Keeffe, Marguerite Thompson Zorach, Florine Stettheimer, and Helen Torr) – and I was immensely pleased with the SmartDrive‘s performance at every location – brick concourse, concrete sidewalk, museum floor. The only hesitations were from my inexperience and lack of trust. Even when it popped off the chair, it was doing what it was supposed to do. It was easy to reattach, and each time I learned a little something new. Brilliantly simple.
There is always a “but…”. I wonder why there isn’t some sort of geared wheel hub that would offer a transmission brake to slow the chair when going down hill. Relying on my grip on the handrims is both difficult (was that smoke rising from the palms of my gloves?) and dangerous if my hand strength should give out – look out below! Bike mechanics, engineers, makers and tinkerers – can this be done?
Allow me one more ranty rave – the SmartDrive is a life changer. My solo outings I would never have even attempted under my own power, knowing how limited my strength can be. One of the things I used to love to do, and one of the dearest things I lost to disability, was wandering the streets with my camera. Thanks to the SmartDrive, I have that back again. Now I look at the bus map and realize that, theoretically at least, I can go from Yarmouth to destinations on my local route, including the Downeaster train in Portland, which offers me essentially…everywhere. That might not seem like much to most people, but as someone for whom those horizons previously came with enormous obstacles, being able to look at the map and see such possibilities is, pardon the expression, huge. A simple hunk of technology like the SmartDrive is empowering and liberating.
Discuss: “It’s exciting that a woman who is transgender can go to the bathroom that she identifies with, bizarre that the disabled community can’t.” (I cannot find the attribution for this.)