Saturday, January 16, 2010

2010 officially starts in mid January, for me, when Mom's birthday rolls along.  She turned 91.  Yeah.  Still drives, paints, talks about church friends and how life has been good, living alone now for ten years, Dad gone.  She's healthy and aware, softly touching life through her painting and reading, active in church and still talking about eating dinner and lunches out like she's a hungry little girl.  
I'll fire my assistant this next week.  If I can wake her up.  She looked at me when I told her she was sleeping, twice in one day, after posting errant notes on the shared drive. "Look at me," she said.  "I'll never get another job."  I don't feel guilty.  At all.  I don't feel guilt when people can't see it coming, their own ineptness, sliding along, helpless, until someone takes charge and kicks them along their way.  She won't bring me down, won't keep me from reaching my goals, sleep won't be lost.
Edited photos of Indian Dancers and Congresswoman Judy Chu, from our open house.  
Looked at motorcycles on the web, the V-Strom 650, the motorcycle I can't vanish from my mind, the one I'll end up buying.  If it comes to that.  
So the holidays are over, the year begins seeking shelter from the storm.  The gutters are clean, caulk drying along sliding door tracks, decks swept clean.  I wait for the rain.  
I'll walk in the shadows, I'll zip up and button down for cold and wet rain and wonder where it went when it's scorching hot in August, some night at the ballpark.  Where does rain go?  Every year seems like fire season, dry brush and timber fueling each season's hell fires.  Mountains lose their green coat, coming rough storm leaving swollen run-off .
Hideout in shadows smoking cigarettes where nobody looks, scratch out a story about a loner making friends with the dark, talking to himself on the freeway like he's with an old friend.  Looking for a deserted road to ride, finding emptiness among crowds, a path flowing through passersby. Brush shoulders, rub elbows, a meaningful glance, a warm hello, take my time, all the time, recharging solitude.  
The year begins.  It is time to work, this year, to write and lead a team, do the best I can, honestly, fairly.
The year is underway.        


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