The view from here

Just checking in to say hello. The past month has been such an emotional roller coaster that I’ve been rendered relatively speechless when it comes to blogging. Trying to capture the sheer level of activity and relationship intensity and shape it into some sort of readable post just hasn’t made sense. Lots and lots of news and I’m thinking that the challenge for me is to find a way to write with a little more day-to-day balance. You have to admit, it’s pretty much all or nothing around here.

One problem is that I would really like to write more about my family: Rich, the children, Bud, my sisters and brother. There’s some great material there but they’re all so darn sensitive. Take my sister, Betsy for example. I could tell you some great stories about her vile cat, Cujo, but then she’d stop speaking to me. (testing. testing.)

Did I mention that this date marks the end of three years of blogging? My first stab at it was on March 11, 2005 so, if I’m here tomorrow, it will be the beginning of my fourth year here. Coincidentally, tomorrow is also the second anniversary of the day my mother died. Just typing that dries up any more words for today. This morning, I did revisit the words I wrote on March 11, 2006 and that’s what reminded me that I write well when I write about the people I know and love. I also took comfort anew from all the kind, loving and supportive comments left at that time.

I’m here and it’s pretty wonderful that most all of you, who read and write, have been around for most of that time. Thank you, both for reading and writing your wonderful journals. Robin Andrea, I know where your heart turns about this time in March. Gene, I got your e-mail. And I’ve been by your place. And it’s already been six months, so it’s probably like the thing about sick kids. Make an appointment with the pediatrician and they miraculously get better.

Talk soon. Be well.


25 responses to “The view from here

  1. Love you, Vicki. Be well yourself… (((hugs)))

  2. I love you too, dear Vicki.

  3. I’m glad you’re well, even though it’s not much fun to ride the emotional roller coaster. (joining me on mine?) I don’t know why life can’t be more even, and calm–but that might be boring and we’d long for excitement, adventure and drama. (or NOT!) Take care, dear. Sending you loving thoughts. And a cold Hef.

  4. I love you too, Vicki. I can tell you that you write well about everything, not just your family. That’s a glorious photo. March 11th is the 100th anniversary of my father’s birth, so it’s important for me as well. And don’t say….IF I’m here tomorrow….please be here (if not tomorrow – soon).

  5. I was thinking about you today driving to a meeting. I’m so glad to come home and see your post. You have been missed! But, hey, no guilt, here. We all need breaks and time. I hear you on not writing about family. It’s really hard to do in a way that doesn’t offend them — even when you think you are being positive and kind. Weird stuff that.

  6. Hugs to you, Vicki!

    I wasn’t here at that time, but I’d read that post before about your Mom and remember how much of it rang true with me then and still does.

    I think we all write well when we write of what we know to be true and when we write from that place inside where joy and hurt intermingle.

    Anyway – hope you’ll be around in the morning!


  7. What am I, chopped liver?!

    Γ€ demain!


  8. Amazing photo! Be well… glad you checked in. πŸ˜€ I’m with Bonnie, tho. Hee.

    And congrats on three years. (I’m about to celebrate a BIG one on my bl0g… and since I suspect you’ll miss it… I’ll hint now. :D) Snarf.

    Oh, and I saw sewing basket on etsy like the one you got, but not nearly as cool… made me wonder if your sewing machine had devoured you, as they are wont to do.

  9. Vicki, Vicki, Vicki. You know that I love you. And I love being part of your neighborhood.

    Two years already since your mother died? She rests in peace, that much I am sure of.

    And look! Bonnie came up for air! What a coincidence. Just last night I signed up for a yoga class.

  10. We love you and will be here. Have your drama and then come back to us.

  11. Great photo. More than great, amazing.

    Don’t feel guilty. That’s our job. The great shortfall of blog friends, as wonderful as they are, is that we (usually) aren’t close enough to bring over a casserole or take you out for a drink when that’s what’s needed. But we do so in spirit.

  12. Okay then.
    You’re all right.

  13. I’m so glad you wrote something here, Vicki. I’ve been wondering and worrying about you. Thank you for remembering. Yes, Friday will be sixteen years, and I’ve been thinking about what to say. It still means everything to me.

  14. Hi, Vicki,
    Warm thoughts to you from Virginia. I hope you’ll still be in Florida after Easter. I would like to at least get a glance of your face before you depart.

  15. Haha. Yes, a lot of people know every line, but how many 19-20 year olds know the lines? I’ve loved that movie since I saw it when I was 12 because it was the Orchestra Teacher’s favorite. The Sound of Music became my favorite piece to play when I played it with Youth Orchestra-

    We write the best about people we know and love…it’s a fact. πŸ™‚ Stay well.

  16. The first post I read of yours was accompanied by a photo of your hand, releasing your mother’s ashes into water. I got all weepy and stayed for more. I just read the post from when she died and dang if I’m not weepy all over again.

    Wishing you well.

  17. The 14th is my mother’s birthday. She died in Oct., 2004. She would have been 77 this year.

    Hugs to you.

  18. So glad to know you are still here even if things are topsy turvy. I am back from Folk School. Are you up for a visit?

  19. You get any good felt tips out of the news clips I sent you?

    And what is that tucked-up bird?Big crane?

  20. I hope you are doing well…and that you got out to Florida okay.

    Chicago was good…perhaps next time we’ll actually see each other.

    ((Hugs)) because I’m sure you need it this time of year…or any day πŸ™‚ I know I sure do.

  21. Hea, is that an osprey? I saw those birds when we were down in Florida, I think not far from your winter hide-out. We took a trail on some island where there were lots of osprey nests as well as the birds themselves.

    That the cat is named Cujo says it all.

  22. Hi Vicki, Hope all your emotional ups and downs have settled down!!!
    I know that that gorgeous bird is a pelican. We had a lot of brown ones in Morro Bay, CA where we used to live.
    Hope to see you post again soon. You write incredibly well and it such a joy to read about your escapades.
    Oh, did McCloud loose any weight yet?,

  23. Thinking of you

  24. Well, actually, Big Dave, only Vicki calls him Cujo. Or Fang. His real name is Hobbes, and he’s a one-person cat (tolerating a few others). He is admittedly vile to company, especially lots of company. He has hissed, spat, scratched, and pee’d on suitcases and shoes. Yet he is a sweet and loving kitty to me, and a dear good friend. His twin brother Fred is adorable and everyone’s best friend. Go figure.

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