A soggy, snowy shabbos

It was a cold snowy day, and I took a real shabbos.
I stayed home quiet, read, napped, ate slowly.

A trip for the b'nai/b'not mitzvah class to visit the cemetery tomorrow has been postponed due to soggy, snowy weather. 

I am grateful for Shalvi's visit, and will miss her when she goes home so far away.

Shavu'a tov.

Last of February

We have had a full, rich day together; and then a meltdown.
Which might smoothe out before trying to go to sleep; or might not.

The Zalman Schachter Shalomi Archives at the university are in good order, and well cared for.
The folks working with it are wonderful, and were generous with their time and expertise.
So much reminder of Zalman---Strange to see items from everywhere along the timeline all at once---an eternal present.
I wonder if that was what drove people in the past to commission portraits to be painted of royal families, etc.:  a certain conquering of time.

But at the end of the day, it has left us each in a tetchy, vulnerable, hypersensitive state.  Each of us wishes to recover something, some scent, some trace of what is truly gone:  the presence of the one we loved.  It makes us jealous of souvenirs, of material things that spark immaterial memories.

It leaves us to go to bed feeling very vulnerable indeed.

Even later in February

It has been a beautiful day.
I have been 70 years old for twenty-two days.  Or, I have lived twenty-two days into my 71st year.
I still believe my mother was so much more grownup at 70 than I am.

Mishka the cat has just leaped onto the desk, and lies purring next to my arm and the laptop.
I get to visit with Shalvi, my beloved's daughter, tomorrow!  She will stay here one night, then return to Denver, then home to Israel.  We will visit Zalman's grave, and his archives.  We will meet this person she is considering.

My housemate and his friend provided a delicious vegan dinner tonight. 
I will go upstairs and purr like the cat.
Good night.

February is almost gone


Journal entry by Eve Ilsen — 24 minutes ago

I like this month.  I even liked it when I lived back East, where the weather was not nearly as pleasant.  (I remember the snowstorm to end all snowstorms that we had on the weekend of our wedding---and blessed Sandy Cohen who let a bunch of us come and camp out at her house the night before, because we knew we'd never make it safely on the icy roads the next day.)

Shalvi, one of my beloved's daughters who lives in Israel, has just arrived in Colorado, and we will get to visit tomorrow.  I will actually go upstairs early and get a good night's sleep.  I so look forward to seeing her!

Good night; and a purr from Mishka, who is curled up beside the laptop.

All curled up purring

Tranquil here.
Now, at night, all is well and quiet.  Everyone is home and doing his/her equivalent of curling up purring.
I received my annual astrological reading:  emphasized shaping the book that is in my mind.  Consistency.  Accountability.

I am looking forward to the visit of my stepdaughter to the States; she is already on her way. 

I have very few words tonight.  It is not that I am empty; I am full of gratitude.
I am just empty of words.
So I am going upstairs to sit quietly and give thanks before bed.
Good night.

A beautiful Sunday 



Journal entry by Eve Ilsen — 11 minutes ago

First some good news:  my concerns for another were taken in the spirit in which they were meant.

Second, more good news:  friend will be released from the hospital, and is expected to do well.

Third:  I am indeed going to try to set up a new cell phone.  I have blessedly done without one for about three weeks (or so?) Ah, made me remember the Good Old Days.  But it's time...

Which reminds me about the Fourth:  I need to start learning the lyrics to the song for the upcoming fundraiser,  "Jewish Broadway".

Fifth:  I gave a class for parents of prospective b'nai mitzvah this morning, and enjoyed it tremendously.  I should consider doing more.

And on an ongoing basis:  Mishka the Cat is well.  She is often at my side while I type.  She loves Zalman's (z'l) recliner.  When I sit in it to read, she appropriates my lap.  Also likes lap-sitting when I'm in a chair reading up in the bedroom.  Goes back downstairs to sleep in the recliner, and wakens me with the kind of piercing meow I only used to associate with alleycats engaged in immoral behavior.  
In her case, it just means:  BREAKFAST!!!

Blessings for a good week.

It started out peaceful

...but this has been an unusual shabbos.

A dear friend younger than me has landed in the hospital with a tiny mini-stroke.
All is well, and being treated skillfully.  He will heal.  Lifestyle---particularly diet---will change.
It is certainly a wake-up call for me too.

Mishka is curled up beside the laptop, as has become her custom, purring in her sleep.

My heart aches for another younger person who is dear to me, who is about to embark upon the same kind of mistake made before, with much more serious possible consequences; and pointing it out fell on deaf---and resentful--- ears.
I have no recourse but prayer.  And tears.

Good week...

How could it aleady be almost shabbos

But it is, and I am not ready for it.
There is cooking to be done, both for shabbos meals here and for another family in the community with illness.  
There is an accumulation of paper on most surfaces, both in my back office and the kitchen.
There are plants who need haircuts, and me too.
Then there's Mishka, who meows operatically around 5 or 6 a.m. wanting breakfast; and in the evening, when I am working on the laptop, snuggles up to my right arm like now and purrs.

I wish us all a deeply peaceful shabbos.

Okay, here goes...

This morning the eye doc looked and tested, and was VERY pleased about the continued improvement of my left eye after the surgery.  Then she gave my right eye its monthly injection...so far so good.  
There is always plenty of waiting between stages at that office, so I brought knitting.  (I already made a pink pussy-hat for a friend, and am now doing one for myself.)  I learned to knit from my grandmother, who taught me like a European:  wind the thread around one finger---like the tension guage on a sewing machine---and pick it up with the needle.  Don't let go of the needles.

A day of errands and appointments thereafter, and finally an easy landing home, a very light dinner, and the resurrection of one of my earlier professions in the service of a friend with an aching back.
(I was trained in therapeutic massage by the old physiotherapist that Edgar Cayce used to send folks to in his readings; I was 18.  But that's a whole other story.)

This made me begin to think about the varied and sometimes unlikely skills each one of us must pick up during a lifetime of things that need to be done. I will list some of mine, and invite you who read this to do the same in the Comments.  I bet we'll be surprised at what some of us have acquired on our circuitous life-paths.  Here are some of mine:

  • cooking

  • breadbaking

  • sourdough 

  • sewing by hand

  • knitting simply

  • getting by on a shoestring

  • SOUPS!

  • professional massage

  • therapeutic use of imagery

  • story

  • song

  • dream work

  • cartooning

  • play

Your turn.  

And now for something completely different

Today I went for testing to the Boulder clinic that evaluates MINDS. We all agree that there is some slippage.
This evaluation was instigated (with consummate gentleness and subtlety) by close friends here, and the clinic is the lifework of friends as well.  
The good news is that they have programs in place, from nutrition on out, to help.
I am extremely grateful:  I would like to keep, and to keep using, whatever is left of my mind.

One unfortunate corollary is that I really do need to get enough sleep.  I might have to bite the bullet and learn to head upstairs earlier than my custom. And actually go to sleep there, not stay up reading for two more hours.  [Thinking of the wonderful children's (?) book, Go the F--- to Sleep!]
So please forgive me for signing off so quickly tonight.  
I'll be back tomorrow.