Most the time my reality is quite lovely. I have a beautiful life. Beautiful family, friends, home, and a daily immersion in the art that kidnapped my passion years ago - I wonder if this phenomenon is related to the Stockholm Syndrome?

And then there are other kinds of reality. Beyond my own egocentric world, reality can be pretty ugly. I just realized what an odd phrase that is... pretty ugly. Doesn't make much sense, but a lot of stuff doesn't make sense sometimes.


*******


My youngest often reminds me that he wants me to frontload problems rather than backload them. I'm not good at frontloading. Too often I allow myself to marinate in problems - I don't talk about them until I've fixed them... or the problem has become so overwhelming that I implode and become a sorry mess of snotty tears.


*******


Yesterday I left a message with Mr. Brady's wife - asking that he call me. He's one of the many, many people I so enjoy on the mountain. He's a heating/cooling guy and has installed heat pumps and splitters in and around my home so that it now has 4 zones. My house isn't that big. From the exterior my home looks normal. The interior isn't. (Um, until two years ago, this could've been a description of me - before I had to live with a tube up my nose.) Anyway, the 4 zones include an attached apartment and a lovely aerie loft. Then there's my space.

I like Mr. Brady a lot. He's a gentle man. He works hard. He hasn't had an easy life, but he would never be one to yak about it. He's kind and thoughtful. I'm pretty certain he's not book smart. He has more important smarts for the life he's chosen... actually the kind of smarts we all should have. He's inspiring.

The heat pump in the loft isn't cooling. Dagnabit! There I go again - That doesn't make sense! Heat pumps do indeed also cool.

Mr. Brady returned my call this morning.

I often have trouble understanding him. I swear his mouth is full of marbles. Oftentimes our exchange in conversation isn't so important - that I have to understand every single word. I decipher. I patch and piece words together.

He was cheerful in his usual subdued manner. Asked how I was. I told him not to be surprised but that since his last visit I'm on oxygen. He murmured some marbly words, which I asked him to repeat. I knew knew knew they were important words. And this is what he said, "He won't take you anywhere He won't help you get through."


******


Mr. Brady's words were so simple. And that's the thing about many of the people who live on the mountain, the Cumberland Plateau. There's lots of poverty. The county where Mr. Brady lives is the poorest in Tennessee. Lots of bad stuff happens like anyplace else. But I've had the remarkable good fortune, infused with occasional wisdom, to recognize the value in knowing the Mr. Bradys of this world. I know Mr. Brady has endured unspeakable heartache and challenges. Yet today he said, "He won't take you anywhere He won't help you get through."


******


I'm in the mood to write forever and ever about the Mr. Bradys of this world that are so important to me, but I'm afraid my words might start to read like a Hallmark card. I never want to trivialize the beautiful impact of this mountain and its indigenous people. Flowery words with piles of praise can become banal, trite... and all the Mr. Bradys I've met are far more deserving. I'll allow myself to observe that so many of the people on this mountain have a Ph.D in kindness.


******


I haven't felt well. So now I'm backloading. Seven weeks ago one of my doctors advised me to give notice with my part time job. I finally complied last week. It's a relief. It wasn't a hard job but it wasn't a fun job. Though my boss was a wonderful person, it wasn't the way I wanted to spend whatever time I have left. (I'm not being dramatic here - none of us knows our timeline.)

I haven't maintained the healthy routine I established last summer. My doctor was becoming concerned.

I've been reading too much about IPF.

Quite frankly, IPF support groups can become a slippery slope of terminal despair. There's no cure. People die and family members post about their sorrows. Who the heck wants to read that! It feeds negativity into my thoughts to become a self-fulfilling prophecy. My mood becomes sullen and pouty when I read depressing posts about IPF. I appreciate the upbeat posts about research... but more often than not, the site is a place for people to mourn. I understand. But I'm not there yet.

I haven't felt well, but also haven't taken into account the buckets of pollen that have rained on me. I also had a brief battle with a secondary infection, which made me lethargic.

My doctors and the good folk in research aren't concerned in the least. My test scores are good! I scored my personal best on the last 6-minute walk I did. The HD CAT showed minimal changes in my lungs.

So, what the heck is wrong with me!


******


I.Do.This.Alone.


*****


Many of my dreams have been snatched away, Each day is a process of reinventing my dreams, goals. Each day I have to reconsider events. Should my granddaughter visit for 1 week, 10 days, or 2 weeks? Do I have the stamina to take her to the Tennessee Aquarium? Am I over-analyzing? Will my granddaughter be disappointed or will she enjoy the simple low impact activities of my current life?

I shouldn't worry so much. I know how to make fun happen!

But there you have it. Some insight into my daily thoughts. What do I have to rearrange in my life to make it work? Just recently I started to become anxious about my limitations.

I'm learning to let go. Chip. Chip. Chip.

There was so much I wanted to do. Travel! Be insanely irresponsible and acquire a *period* cottage in Ireland. Maybe finally meet someone to share my beautiful life with.

I'm learning to let go. Chip. Chip. Chip.

And you know what? Usually after I *let go* I re-focus on the really really really important stuff in life - Not the dreamy-dreams. The real stuff. And that makes life good again.

Um, I'm not ready to let go of taking my granddaughter to the Tennessee Aquarium. I'm gonna hold tight to that one. I can do it. I am certain.


This is all to say, "Watch out world! Reenie's Back!


******


Thanks for stopping by. Means so much to me.

Oh and by the way, the 4th HVAC zone is in my garage where my studio and treadmill are and a second washer/dryer for Willow and Olivia... and every so often my car.