JANUARY 9, 2024-THE BEST LAID PLANS

Today, I planned the heroic mission of packing up the Christmas decorations and shoving them back into the storage shed, a task that ranks among the top five on my “Jobs I’d Almost Rather Die Than Do” list. I woke up revved and ready to crush it. I was a one-person wrecking crew, ready to rearrange the entire universe (or at least the shed) to make everything fit like a beautiful puzzle.

Fast forward to 8 p.m., and you’d expect me to be basking in the glory of a job well done, right? Wrong! Every single Christmas ornament was in the exact place it was yesterday. I roped myself into being a good neighbor. First, I volunteered to pick up a prescription for a good friend who’s sicker than a cat with a kazoo. What should have been a simple thirty-minute errand turned into a full-blown circus, complete with clowns and acrobatics, thereby requiring four hours to deliver the medicine to my neighbor’s doorstep.

As if that wasn’t enough, I dog-sat for another neighbor’s sick little dog until she could take him to the vet. An additional hour and a half disappeared into the abyss, all while my Christmas tree continued to gleefully display its festive attire.

Having squandered half of my day on these “none Christmas tree” endeavors, I ditched the tree plans and tackled a task I’d been avoiding for a week. Replacing my Internet modem/router with a new one. Of course, chaos ensued, which required another two hours wrestling with Tech Support just to re-establish internet connection.

And that’s how my day went – a whirlwind of activities with absolutely nothing to show for them. It’s clear that I need a full-blown life makeover if I want to clear my to-do list.

However, providing a service to a friend in need always trumps my “To Do” list.

JANUARY 6, 2024 What Do You Say?

Today I attended a Memorial Service. A dear friend lost her daughter to Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS). I did not have the privilege of meeting her daughter and that was my loss. Listening to her friends and family share memories of her, I recognized she was a remarkable woman. She was adventurous, spirited, full of fun and in love with the California wilderness and the plants that grew there. Her departure from this world was a huge loss to her family and friends.

They had to stand by and watch the gradual decline of her physical abilities, knowing the only thing they could do was provide care and helping hands. I grieve for them silently because after seventy-six years I have never found the right words with grace. The ritual words: “my condolences” and “I am so sorry for your loss” feel hollow. But as I am not gifted with words that offer real comfort, and some ease from sorrow I fall back on the hollow words because that is what the ritual words are for: an expression of caring when are at a loss for real words,