All the data on my laptop was mysteriously wiped clean and the computer tech guys have no clue what happened and couldn’t retrieve a scrap of data but my hardware is all in good shape and there are no viruses on my computer. I have concluded that my laptop had a midlife crisis and went on a wild deleting spree. Since I downloaded all my files onto my LaCie a month ago I haven’t permanently lost more than a month’s worth of data and pictures. Which is a bummer since that includes all my notes on The Phlebotomists. But considering how bad it could have been – I really have no right to complain and I am thanking myself for feeling guilty that I hadn’t backed anything up for months and so did it.
I think I’ve used this picture of crumbs before but I had limited access to my photos so this is what I found and it felt appropriate for my general mood which has been very dark.
I still have much to be worried about as big things remain unresolved and probably will for some time but I can’t live in a state of constant crisis-level stress so I’ve been trying to live more in the moment and appreciate the small things that are good in my life.
Max has been eating quite a bit better right now and this requires a lot of baking and efforts on my part. He wanted gingerbread the other day and as my recipe doesn’t have dessert-level sugar in it and has a lot of blackstrap molasses – I am happy to have him eat lots of it. I needed some Dutch processed cocoa and a lot of places don’t carry it but Pacific Market carries Drost and that’s the kind I like so I went to buy a box. Pacific Market is a small fancy market where a lot of really rich people shop. The rest of the clientele are non-rich locals buying just a few items here or there because it’s a wonderful market and convenient and locally owned. Anyway – I used to shop there a lot more when we were doing pretty well when Max was still a baby. It is within easy bicycling distance so when I needed something I would put Max on the bicycle and we’d pedal over to Pacific where everyone would gaze with amazement at Max’s platinum hair. Often we’d get a treat at Village Bakery next door before pedaling ourselves home.
Monday was a really sunny warm day and I rode to the market on my scooter as I was in a hurry to get back to the kitchen. I found the Drost cocoa and some milk (both priced quite dear) and back out into the sunshine I was hit with familiar smells and a barrage of happy memories. The air was redolent of sweet blossoms, freshly baked bread, sunshine on pavement and a little wisp of eucalyptus – the smell of Santa Rosa and home. In that moment my mood lifted and I remembered that a lot can (and will) go wrong with my life but being here is right. We have laid down so many good times among the rough. I have walked and ridden every inch of my neighborhood and some of the surrounding ones with my baby in tow living a pretty simple life back then in which I stayed home and gardened and cooked and wrote during Max’s naps. My house then was (is) the best and prettiest house in the world and I loved every minute living in it even when we still had the fire engine red porcelain kitchen sink.
Even though we ended up having to sell our house and even though we moved away and had a somewhat wild and prickly adventure in Oregon, all the good memories are still here. All around me. Every day. That’s what counts the most – all the good memories we generated between the tough times.
That’s what I’m telling myself right now as I try to force a panic attack back down my throat.