Monday, June 13, 2011

Noticing the Wee, Tiny, Dooshy Things.

It's too soon to say if He is gone but I began to notice the wee things today. How lovely were two phonecalls, one completely out of the blue as she had a 'vibe': my fellow sufferer of these occasional devastating depressions. I had wanted to call her too, as I knew she'd understand but I figured my 10.30 a.m. and her 9.00 a.m. might not mesh for alertness only to have her call me at 11.30. Synchronicity as always. The other call was first thing this morning from a dear friend who had been with me yesterday through cast rehearsals and planning for the play opening (shortly, shortly!) but there was no time for a private conversational check-up. She also suffers from periodic depression. It is so wonderful to have understanding and non-judgement and tolerance of this and I am so grateful to blogfriends as well who take the time to leave a little note of support.

I also have the loan of a good piano keyboard (gawd, I miss my piano!) and played a few old Irish melodies on it today. All symptoms of the black fog clearing. I would think. How lovely to create music even for the self.

I am not taking anything for granted. I really, really want my normal joie de vivre back and be rid of the Hound from Hell who never speaks with kindness but only to berate, condemn and isolate.

I walked around the meadow and noted the mint I thought had not overwintered is pushing its way up in the old sink it nestles in and my basil is smiling and the multiple pots of flowers I scattered under a tree are nodding gracefully.

I thought to remove the little gate I have on my front deck to keep the dog in. She is so well trained now that she won't go down any steps without my explicit permission, thought I. I hadn't realized she merely thought her goodly behaviour performance art.

As I watch Ansa from my office, she stays on the deck for quite a while and then paces by all the windows looking up intently. She doesn't see me with the sun reflecting off the window. With one final sly glance she scoots down the steps. "Excuse me, Madame" I run to the front door and catch her heading off down the driveway, she skulks back up the steps, silently, avoiding my eyes and heads for her bed. Foiled. By Old Two Legs. Damn.

She did made me laugh, though. And that is a very good thing.


  1. glad you are feeling more UP...Ansa cracked me up :)

  2. Are you perking up or is it too soon to tell? I'm afraid to get my hopes up, but i will keep my fingers crossed for you. Let there be a light at the end of the tunnel please. Ansa is full of antics and a great source of humor. That's something to laugh about anyway and laughter is the best medicine, right? If you're capable of that, you're on your way.


  3. You are certainly sounding better. Welcome back - or almost back.

  4. I agree with Nora...the ability to laugh is always a good sign that things may be on their way up. Fingers crossed as well. Also, I didn't realize you were involved in theatre! There's another commonality WWW :) Although I am more missing it now than actually participating. Perhaps one day I will find my theatre niche here on the island...

  5. Sounding more like yourself today, WWW! I'm glad. :-)

  6. BG:
    Let me know if you're interested in a play I'm putting together for next year, starting sometime October, I would think. Email me at

  7. I'm glad that things are starting to lift for you - that made me laugh about Ansa!

  8. Nice article, thanks for the information.

  9. You can never get rid of mint. It doesn't understand the word "defeat".

  10. Good for Ansa to make you laugh! You are on the right road now!


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