This is the cute B & B I found less than a mile from the studio where I will participate in a weekend workshop that is for the first time in my life NOT about writing. My friend Laura Zera facilitates these Desire Map workshops with deep inner attention to core desires. Like what will you regret NOT doing on your deathbed? And how can you get off your duff and do it already?
It’s amazing how much of the day I spend NOT doing what I want to do, but instead mindlessly drift from here to there in cyberspace, in my car, in the supermarket, or this week, from doctor to doctor. Giant pain in the ass, a little bit scary for a minute, but also a huge burst of happiness when I learned that I did not, in fact, have to have my vein cut open, I did not have to have a suspect “mass” removed, I did not have to wait for a biopsy to tell me if it was malignant. After three different people did ultrasounds at a hospital that shall remain nameless, the last guy thought he had it all figured out. “We just don’t know what kind of surgeon you’re gonna need,” he said.
He actually seemed kind of excited that he’d found this rare thing; it was a tiny bit dehumanizing. In fact, I wandered dazed into Starbucks for a soy latte afterward and while waiting for my drink checked Facebook & posted what I thought was a discreet update. Ha. My son calls me “the most extroverted person he knows” on social media. Which is funny because in real life, I’m an introvert. But my post turned out to be a good thing. Lots of love plus I believe in positive vibrations.
Also, a friend I have known since junior high school is married to a surgeon. She saw my post and sent a text offering help. I wasn’t going to bother them; my doctor said surgery was not a for sure thing. “We would, however, like you to consult with this vascular surgeon…” and it was my friends’ husband, who I have also known since junior high.
Trust him with my life? You bet! So I called my friend and she got me in the next day. He was so kind and delivered the most excellent news. I didn’t need surgery, I didn’t need to do anything, this little clot was dissolving on its own and I was gonna be just fine.
And see how discreet I am? I didn’t say their names! Or the name of our junior high even! My son has no idea how much I don’t tell, which is way more than I do. I keep paper journals for the really intense stuff. Or I turn it into fiction. So…on a natural high I naturally came home and booked the workshop.
Even though it’s in Seattle, Washington and I live in Washington, Michigan. Because I deserve it and I need to figure out what to do with this next part of my wonderful life that I don’t want to sleepwalk through or throw away doing something stupid that doesn’t matter. Also, I’m working in a day with Owen, my Seattle grandson. Then I’ll meet Al in California, where we will spend a week with our NEW grandson, who is not yet born. Don’t you think Owen’s already looking like the older cousin? He’s Granny’s big boy now.
I had one more doctor appointment this week, my yearly eye check and the only thing that happened was he dialated my eyes (still that miraculous 20/20, or as Al would say “expensive” 20/20) so I couldn’t read the fine print on the menu when I met my friends for lunch later that day. No problem. Ordered my usual sweet potato fries and a glass of Chardonnay.
Then we went shopping. I am not an avid shopper and I do better at it after a glass of wine. Not that I need an excuse to have a glass of wine or six. But even with just the one glass, I found an antique desk I really like. And a new suitcase I can manage on my own with a carry on. Because Al isn’t coming with me to Seattle this time. And I’m not going home in between trips. And he refuses to bring my huge month-in-Europe suitcase to California. Which means I need to be organized and independent and so forth. I need luggage I can handle on my own. That’s good. It’s part of my core desire, I think. I’ll know for sure after the workshop.
And of course I’ll tell you my core desires when I figure them out because I am the social media extrovert who spills all. (Not.) For example, I could talk more about Al not bringing my second suitcase to California, making it necessary for me to lug around an extra bag. (Do you think that word lug is the root of luggage?) I will say that I am okay with Al refusing to be responsible for my extra shoes and outfits. He’s got his own baggage. Actual and otherwise. Notice how I don’t say what exactly all that is. The only person I tell on is myself. That’s my rule. That and always order the sweet potato fries.
Life is good and so were these.