surprisingly seamless reentry

I am back in Minnesnowta. 

And Rob and Nina allowed the front sidewalk to become a sheet of glare ice. 

This is something that would never occur on my watch. 

But, it's fine because I can get out there today and chop away at it with the sturdy metal shovel and maybe a garden spade. 

Or maybe a sledge hammer! 

It's a blessing in the disguise of a pain in the ass. 

I was so annoyed about the ice on the walkway that I forgot to burst into tears and fall to the floor when I walked into the cozy little house now devoid of all light, devoid of all joy, with no little scamp Aidan there to greet me. 

It sunk in though. 

Rob had an Italian bean soup prepared for me and we sat together with candles and a bottle of Italian white wine and some great crusty bread. 

Nina is gone, house sitting for her father and his wife. 

It was sad but it was good. 

Rob cried. 

I don't feel like crying any more, I cried it all out during the Linda Ronstadt movie they showed for us in NOLA. 

I'm going to tell you that story, the story of how much I loved that movie this weekend and why. 

But first just let me say that the way it's hitting me now about Aidan is that my brain is in the habit of him being here. 

I just keep thinking I have to let him in from the backyard. My brain keeps assuming he's just out in the yard. 

It's disconcerting. 

I had to catch myself several times. 

Over our candlelit cozy peasant's feast, Rob and I discussed the possibility of a new doggie. 

Neither of us is sure, either way. 

It'll have to work out magically as all things do for me. 

There, I said it, as all things do. 

Everything that happened in New Orleans was pure magic. 

I went into Starbucks at one point yesterday, feeling a bit low about returning to Minnesnowta. 

I asked for a chocolate brownie, no coffee even, just the brownie, chocolate to the rescue. 

The nice young man took my money and went to get the brownie. 

He came back saying they were all out of brownies. 

I just stared at him. He just stared at me. 

I said, "Oh, well, what should I do now?" 

Because my brain just couldn't figure out a new path. 

He said, very encouraging and kind, as I felt like I might give up on life and burst into tears, "Oh, okay, well, um, you're going to get the chocolate chunk cookie instead. Yeah, that's what you're going to get." 

I said, "Okay. That's a good idea. Do we have to redo the money?" 

He said, "No, it's almost the same amount." 

He came back with a bag and handed it to me. 

I looked inside. 

It held two huge cookies. 

I said, "Oh, there's two in here." 

He said, "Well the second one is because I disappointed you." 

God Bless America! 

God Bless New Orleans! 

I am here to tell you, people, Love and Light are alive and well right outside your door. 

Get out into that big world and soak up some Love and Kindness. 

Okay, so now about Linda Ronstadt. 

I rode my bicycle from Macalester College where I was on my full ride academic scholarship, on April 20th, 1980, to the St. Paul Civic Center because I heard that Linda Ronstadt was there singing. 

I locked my bike in front of the Civic Center building and was heading towards the doors, wondering if I could sneak in somehow. 

A scary looking guy approached me, like a carnival worker kind of guy back then, asking me if I wanted to buy a ticket to the show. 

I told him I didn't have any money. 

I literally didn't even have anything in the pockets of my jeans, not an ID, not a cent. 

He looked at me a long time, I was wondering if he was getting angry or what. 

Then he handed me one of his grubby looking tickets and said, "Run! Get in there! She's already started!" 

I ran. 

I flew in through the no-security doors. 

I burst into the concert hall just as she was starting Desperado. 

I fucking cried my eyes out. 

I just stood there and my whole head was exploding. 

Only Linda and I were in that huge room. 

I was standing facing her way in the back and she was facing me and nothing else existed. 

I calmed down eventually and she did the rest of her set and then I went out to my little bicycle and rode back to my single room in my dorm and I cried myself to sleep with no one to tell. 

I never had anyone to tell back then. 

Now I have you guys. 

Thank you. 

hard day today..trying to stay grateful 

January 29, 2020 

I set up my old desk in Rob's living room today. 

I put away my little dog Aidan's things, his bed, his toy basket, his food and water dishes. 

I carried my wooden desk up from Rob's basement on sheer strength of my grief. 

A desk is what I long for now so I gave this to myself. 

Rob's living room is small. 

Rob wasn't happy when he saw what I had added. 

He is asking for me to give up the idea. 

But I simply need my desk right now. 

It's staying for at least a little while. 

There's a love seat of mine that's now just sort of sitting in the space between the living room and dining room. 

I don't know where the love seat can go. 

It's too heavy for me to move alone. 

I have no idea. 

I can't think about that right now. 

Grief has me hog tied and blinded. 

I called places around Minnesota about puppies the same kind as Aidan. 

There's one available but they want $500. 

I don't have that right now. 

I consider that a red light from the Universe. 

I see my light come shining, from the west down to the east. 

Any day now, any day now, I shall be released.

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