Bozo On The Bus

So today I'm going to be just another bozo on the bus quite literally. I'm taking the bus to work. It will pick me up just a ten minute's walk from my house at 11:36 a.m. and drop me right in downtown Ann Arbor, about ten minute's walk from the Clean Water Action office at 12:15 p.m. Since I don't have to be to work until 1:30 p.m., that gives me a nice cushion, in case something goes wrong. There's lots of road construction all over the place these days, so there's a pretty good chance that something will go wrong. Much of the construction is due to the fact that Michigan is getting a bunch of stinking traffic circles. They are supposed to be environmentally friendly as studies were done to prove they reduce auto emmissions. However, just between me and you, I think they're a death trap. Seriously, I really don't care for the combination of traffic circles and Michigan drivers. If we had all been required to go to some sort of seminars before they launched this mission of instituting traffic circles, things might go OK. But they didn't. And Michigan drivers are unlike any other drivers in the world. Michigan drivers have a strong sense of entitlement. We build the cars here in Michigan. Our grandparents built the cars here in Michigan. And Michiganians damn well feel they have a right to drive them -- as fast as possible without interfearance from the traffic authorities. Traffic circles might be a good idea in other states. I recall a big traffic circle in the greater Chicago area and it was never a problem at all. People in Illinois seem more equipped to adjust to these innovations. But here in Michigan, I'm telling you, not so much. You wouldn't believe the hostility I've experienced in traffic circles. So many type-
A drivers, so little time, so little clue on how to yield and read the managarie of road signs and arrows. I'm telling you, all these traffic circles in Michigan are going to be a huge disaster. Someone ought to start the casualty report now. They're going to be a major death trap. In fact, I bet they probably are already.

So, anyway, I guess it might be for the best that I'm taking the bus, with all these traffic circles happening all over the place. Geoff Larcom takes the bus nowadays -- and City Hall is named after his father. He's been raving about it in his Facebook status updates. All sorts of people are taking the bus these days. They've got a campaign. Smiling Ann Arborites in soft focus on billboards all over the place. They oughta get Larcom on there. He'd be a great poster child for public transportation. Geesh.

My nephew, Joe, texted me yesterday. "How do you like the bus?" he asked.
"I haven't taken it yet," I said. "I've been getting rides."
There was a pause in texting.
"I'm taking it tomorrow."
"You're going to love it!" he texted back.

Joe hasn't been driving for several months. He ran into some financial difficulties, too, when he bottomed out with his alcoholism. He told me it's OK to blog about it. He's doing wonderfully, now -- a huge inspiration. Recovering alcoholics are some of the most amazing people in the world and I'm amazingly proud of my nephew. No kidding -- the guy is amazing. I never would have imagined he had such a problem. I suspected something was wrong. But no kidding, he was really suffering. Thank God he's doing so great now. It inspires me to take care of my health, too.

I did send off the resume to the Creative Health Institute. I'm planning to call them today before I hop on the bus to see if they got it. I'll keep you posted.

Well, I guess I better pack my lunch and get ready for the bus. I do enjoy people watching and I have enjoyed public transportation in other places where I have lived. But in Michigan it hasn't ever seemed as convenient. Part of that is simply a frame of mind; I'll admit it. Michiganians are the only people in the world who will get in a car and drive to the corner store to get a loaf of bread. Seriously, we do that here. We're incorrigible when it comes to driving. It's a cultural thing.

The only thing I wish is that they'd keep the bus running until at least Midnight. You know? I'm going to have to get ride home from work from someone who lives in Ypsilanti because the bus stops running before I get off work.

How do you like the way I used the singular form of bus throughout this report, incidentally? I thought it was pretty clever. I've never in my life been able to remember which busses is the vehicle and which buses is the kisses. I am pretty sure the kisses have two eses. But this is just me living life without an editor. It's fun most of the time but every now and then it gets a bit dicey.

(P.S. I ran spell check and I'm pretty sure now that busses are kisses as it was flagged. But I wanted to let you know that Spell Check is incorrect in its suggestion that I change Michiganians to Michiganders. The Associated Press decided more than ten years ago that Michiganians was much better due to the fact that feminists might feel excluded from the gender-specific inclusion of ganders in reference to the populace of our fine state. No kidding. It's a truth. Look it up.)

Hamster No More

Before I go to sleep tonight I plan to send a resume to the Creative Health Institute in Hodunk, Michigan (incidentally, a Battle Creek Enquirer columnist once walked from Hodunk to Podunk Michigan and wrote a really great column about it) to inquire about a three-month internship there.

Thank you, Lois, for the Webmed article. I am once again having trouble with my comments feature on the Google Blog. I actually have read quite a lot about the Raw Food Diet and I have eaten quite a few meals at the Creative Health Institute so I have a pretty good idea what it is about. I do not look upon it as a cure for my Multiple Sclerosis.  I do look upon it as a way to maximise my energy and stamina and keep my weight in balance -- and also, it will routinely expose me to lots of antioxidents. That's a good thing. I have gone through vegetarian phases in my life. It's no big deal to me. I like vegetarian food. I've also gone through periods of eating mostly raw foods. I know that my body loves sprouts and wheatgrass juice and lots and lots of the things they eat there. In addition, I am pretty anal about not losing too much weight. (especially now that I am getting older... it makes for unflattering wrinkles and stretchy skin). Although I have suffered from compulsive exercising phases and body image issues at different times in my life,  I've never ever been underweight. Not ever. I have been at the low end of my weight-range, though. And I loved it and my nutritionists and doctors (who I can no longer afford to see) thought it was very healthy for me. I had more energy than I'd ever had in my life (incidentally, I was at that phase just five years ago and in a way it feels like yesterday and in another way it feels like a million years ago), I've talked to other people who live with Multiple Sclerosis who are physically active and they agree that their energy level increases dramatically if they are on the thin side.

I received a nice e-mail from my sister, Kelly today, too. Kelly and her husband, Dan, helped me out when I was trying to break into the insurance business by giving me cash loans they did not expect to be paid back. They are very generous and I know they would give me more money if I asked for it. But I do not feel that borrowing more money from my family is a good idea for me at this time. It is starting to become a pattern and I don't like it. Until I lost my job at the Ann Arbor News in 2005, I was never a money borrower. Anyway, Kelly didn't have an opinion one way or another about the raw food idea and I was happy for that. But she did encourage me to exercise at least thirty minutes a day to keep my energy up. I agree with her. Exercise is really important. That is one reason why I really like working for Clean Water Action. I like the fact that I actually get to walk to do the work. And actually, I have felt a bit healthier since starting that job.

But the fact is -- I am sitting here approaching the winter in Michigan fifty pounds heavier than I was last year, still having a Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis and not having money to fix my recently smashed car and pay  my rent. This is not the first time I have been in a situation like this since I lost my job at the newspaper. Life has been really chaotic. I definitely have had health struggles with the eating disorder and the Multiple Sclerosis. I have tried the 12-Step eating program again and again and again and I keep gaining and losing thirty pounds -- now it is fifty. So this is what I am going to pursue next.

I am looking forward to it. I think my body will respond very well to learning a new  way of eating. I am not sure when I will go to the center but I do believe in my heart that it will be fairly soon. I will see what opportunities they have and talk it over with Emily and Greg at Clean Water Action to find out what will work for them. After I have finished the internship I will plan to come back to Ann Arbor and work at Clean Water Action some more -- assuming that they will welcome me back. I suspect they will be supportive of me doing something to get my health in better order. It is obvious to anybody who has known me for several years (and Emily and Greg have known me for five years) that my health and stamina have deteriorated quite a bit.

It might not have been the best idea to blog about this before talking to Emily and Greg. But I suspect they will understand. Emily is actually the one who put he raw food idea in my head. I am excited about it but a bit nervous about how everything will work out with keeping my job and learning the techniques.

But I am just going to trust today that everything will work out.

P.S. I  hope I didn't offend any of my blog readers with my glamorous back shot. I had taken it as my avatar on Facebook for a little while, too. But then I realized it might be a bit provocative.

P.P.S. In case I didn't make this clear -- I feel that God has given me a very CLEAR message to get my health in order first and the rest will follow -- even economic security. And I do plan to pay back my sister and her husband and my father as well. I have never been a lazy person or a slacker and I have many, many projects in the works that can eventually generate income. But if I don't have the stamina to complete those projects in addition to working to earn a basic living, I'll never be able to pay anybody back or get ahead at all. So the bottom line is, I just had it backwards, God showed me that. Putting economics before health was causing me to spin like a hamster on a wheel.

St. Joseph's Girl

People can't give you what they don't have: this is the phrase that was in my head this morning when I woke up.

Given that I spent about four hours in prayer and meditation yesterday and that's not something I usually do, I feel like that phrase is a pretty pure and clear message from God. Four hours of prayer and meditation has a way of clearing away thought cobwebs. Four hours of prayer and meditation has a way of closing the door on the world's noise.

God has gifted me with many fine qualities and experiences. He has given me boldness, creativity and kindness. I am grateful for those qualities and I feel that when I embrace them,  it makes my Creator smile. God has also gifted me with a fair measure of natural beauty. He has given me large eyes and strong features, lovely hands and a tall body. I believe it pleases my  Creator when maintain the beauty he has given me by dressing flatteringly and taking time to highlight my good features. But I haven't been doing much with my natural beauty in the past few years -- and I haven't been doing much with my creativity or kindness or intelligence, either.

For five years -- since I had my first and only major attack of Multiple Sclerosis at a time when I had no health insurance at all and had recently lost my job and career as a newspaper journalist -- I have been fighting just to stay afloat. Everything in my life has been a huge struggle. Life has been extremely hard on many fronts. If I were to take a photograph of myself today and place it next to a photograph of myself that was taken five years ago, I feel as though I would look like a woman who has aged ten years, not five. Maybe I look like I have aged fifteen years. And I look this way because I have not been taking care of my health. When they say "you are what you eat," it is a true statement. So I guess I am sort of a combination of McChicken $1 meal sandwiches and oatmeal cookies -- with some V8 juice here and there for good measure. I have tried very hard over the past five years to maintain my health through the twelve step eating programs and I have not been successful with those programs.

There are two main reasons why I have not been successful with the twelve-step eating programs. The first reason is economics. In order to follow the twelve-step food program that has worked for me the best in the past, I need to go to see a nutritionist at least every six months and I need to weigh and measure my food according to a plan that she designs for me. I have had trouble paying my rent and car payments since I lost my job as a reporter. I went through a bankruptcy. I have just had a really, really hard time with life in general. Very good people who love me have tried to help in different ways and I am so very grateful for the love and kindness and support. But the problem for me is, when people help me, I feel obligated to take their advice on things, to follow their suggestions. I feel that I don't want to disappoint them and I want to show my appreciation for what they give me. Also, I have been so confused due to so many rapid changes in my life, I haven't really known if one way is better than another. So I have walked the paths suggested by people who have given me financial assistance and material support. This has not been all bad, mind you. My twelve-step friends who gave me groceries have wonderful suggestions about life. My father who has given me thousands and thousands of dollars over the past five years has great confidence in me and has always expected that I could become both the president of the United States and Miss America.


(Break for interrupted thoughts... cups of coffee, Sunday morning Facebooking, etc...)

So anyway, God told me I can't expect people to give me what they don't have.

And a few days ago He gave me health as my number one priority.

And as you know (if you've been reading my blog) I've been considering going to live in the homeless shelter for a few months due to a financial disaster and the fact that I feel like as much as I love my family, I can't live with those people because when I do, it leads me back to bad habits with regard to eating and smoking. Given that I've just gained fifty pounds trying to be an insurance saleswoman (GAG! I just HATE insurance sales!), I just really don't think living with them is an option.

My former future mother-in-law (the mother of the 28-year-old seminarian I so inappropriately had a crush on for two years -- hey, I'm over the top sometimes -- God seemingly made me this way) told me yesterday she's looking around for a free place for me to stay and I can even go and  live on her couch for awhile if I need to.

I feel the love. I love the love. I have such wonderful, wonderful people in my life.

But the thing about people is they are always promoting ideas and values and lifestyles and things. In some instances they actually push these ways.

My former future mother-in-law doesn't. At least she  doesn't do it as much as other people. She's a special education teacher so she knows how to deal with challenging people such as me.

I digress...

The bottom line is that I truly, truly walk alone with God and God has some work to do with my health right now. So I have to put my health as my main priority -- above family, above work, above love.

And the bottom line is, I've decided to become a Raw Foodist. No kidding -- this is something that came to me after four hours of prayer and meditation. If you have any adivice for me. If you want to argue or turn up your nose -- go ahead and do it. But before you do, please go sit in prayer and meditation for four hours.

And the best part is -- I didn't even just pray and meditate at any old place. Yesterday fate dropped me literally at the doorstep of the Pious Union of St. Joseph for the Suffering and Dying. I kid you not! It wasn't planned. I got dropped off there just as morning Mass was starting. It was incredible. Here's a link to it: http://www.piousunionofstjoseph.org/.

If this wasn't enough, Emily, the Clean Water Action Canvas Director started talking to me about her friend who is a Raw Foodist and who blogs about it. I didn't thnk anything of it. But then I woke up this morning and within half an hour I decided I need to become a raw foodist. No kidding, I've met these people before.
They're the healthiest people you'll ever meet in your life. I did stories about them fifteen years ago when I was at The Battle Creek Enquirer.

I thought then that the Raw Foodists were some of the most outrageous people I'd ever met in my life.

So I guess they ARE outrageous. And I'm going to be one of them.

If the shoe fits, wear it!

So anyway, sorry this post is so rambling. But I think it's pretty exciting. I have to get to Mass, so I really don't have time to edit. But I just wanted to update everybody on the exciting news.

I am not 100 percent certain, but I am pretty sure that sometime in the pretty near future I'll be going to live at The Creative Health Institute in Hodunk, Michigan for three months.

I got my first massage there about fifteen years ago from a guy named Igor who was raised in Moscow and came from a family of Russian Massuses. It was  so amazing. Honestly, I was smiling for three weeks. Igor is long gone, of course. But I am sure there will be somebody there who gives a decent massage.

(p.s. the fact that I randomly ended up at the Pious Union of St. Joseph for the Suffering and Dying is especially incredible given that I have a huge devotion to St. Joseph and say an ancient prayer to him nearly every day. In addition I have been in single woman's Rosary Circle for about two years. We get together about once a month and pray a Rosary to St. Joseph for our future husbands. We call ourselves St. Joseph's Girls.)

Amsterdam

It's been a weird day.

I woke up dreaming about the man I went on two dates with a few weeks ago -- the 6-foot, 4-inch Navy Veteran who brought me a melon, the one who randomly happened upon a gig as the Dalai Lama's security guard for three weeks and ran with the bulls in Spain many years ago. He's nonchalant about all this stuff, like an organic story farm or something... these stories just grow from him.  It's amazing. He should be a writer or something (I'd been thinking something LIKE a writer's husband). I don't know. He just did something to me, this guy with the melon. He told me he wanted to sleep in a sailboat in Amsterdam in the off season some year -- lots of stuff like that and, of course, I totally imagined doing it all with him. He was a fabulous kisser, so warm and thoughtful and really strong. So I woke up thinking about rocking in this boat in Amsterdam with this guy. It felt so real, I could, like, smell the sea breeze and his T-shirt. We are supposed to be taking a break. Rather, I am supposed to be giving him space so he can get over his ex-wife who really  broke his heart three years ago. I don't know what went wrong  with his ex-wife, exactly. But it hurt him. I get it. I've had my heart mashed out with a wooden spoon by someone. It sucks. I hate it. So I was supposed to be giving him a break. We were not supposed to communicate at all until Oct. 10. But I've been feeling lonely -- and there's this issue with Facebook. He has quite a few beautiful female friends. One is a plus-sized model. He comments on her photos and tells her how sexy and beautiful she is. She took a photo of herself with him as her profile picture. Those of you who think I sound like a Facebook stalker just shut up. If you're on Facebook and you like someone, you're totally checking out whose wall he is commenting on and what she looks like in her other photos. Don't lie about it.

So this morning I woke up in Amsterdam in this guy's arms, smelling his T-shirt and everything ; except I realized that I wasn't in his arms at all. I wasn't even in Amsterdam. I was in Ypsilanti, sleeping in this twin bed that used to belong to my roommate's sister. And now she's in a convent. No kidding, she joined the order of nuns that was started by Mother  Teresa. If that isn't bad enough, several people have suggested that I would make a great nun! OMG, what kind of impression do I give? Seriously, if that were what God intended for me, life in a convent, I'd much rather He just went ahead and took me home Thursday afternoon when my car spun out on the Interstate.

So here I've been having this huge crush on this guy who seems pretty wonderful and I'm even dreaming about him and everything else. And the reality is, I'm sleeping in the bed of a nun. It felt so depressing. So I e-mailed him a glamor shot of myself from a few years ago, a beach shot of my back. The one who mashed my heart out with a wooden spoon took it at Lake Michigan one afternoon when we were having a picnic and messing around with the purple sand vetch. It was a little impulsive, I suppose. But I hate how so many  women post a million glamorous photos of themselves on Facebook these days. I mean it's bad enough that I've been sleeping in a nun's bed and that I gained fifty pounds in the past six months while I was trying to become a superstar insurance agent.

He didn't respond. But I checked his Facebook wall to see what he's been up to today. And now I see what's really going on. He's in love with this extremely beautiful woman who he went to high school with. She is a few years behind him. She's really, really pretty and owns her own salon. She's married but I don't think the marriage is going very well. It bothers him that she's married. He doesn't want to date a married woman (I know all this because he told me all about it the first night I met him. He said he had just bumped into her and it had made him crazy. They had been intimate many years ago and the feelings are still there. He doesn't know what to do.  But then he told me there  was just no way with her because she is married.) He's a good guy. He's just not that into me. And you know, let's face it, I might be going to live at a homeless shelter for three months -- and even if I wasn't, I've recently gained fifty pounds. I am still considering the whole homeless shelter thing. I mean I haven't ruled it out. It seems a little bit extreme but I just don't know what to do.  My faith is important to me but I am very tired of unsolicited advice from people who are more holy and/or better tweleve steppers. I sort of like imperfections in myself and other people. I used t o visit a glass factory in West Virginia to buy the vases that were blown with bubbly imperfections.  They cost a fraction of the price of the other vases and I always found them more interesting and beautiful.

Some other guys have expressed an interest in dating me and I suppose I'll just go ahead and go on some dates with some of them. It's  a bit hard. This guy was so cute and interesting! But some  of these other guys will probably be  cute and interesting, too. A few are guys who I've known at various times in my life and become reacquainted with through Facebook. They know what's going on with me -- all the drama with being ten minutes away from living in the homeless shelter.

But there are tons of guys from this free online dating site who I also could try to date.  The thing is, I wonder if I should update my profile to say something like "Homeless Hottie." Life feels a little bit over the top right now.

But St. Joseph is looking after me. Today I was dropped off for canvassing right across the street from a Shrine to St. Joseph in Grass Lake. I needed to add a layer of clothing; the day was colder than I'd anticipated. So I opened the door to go in and use the bathroom. Mass had just started. I stayed for Mass. I prayed a Rosary for my future husband. And I lit candles for the future husbands of my roommate and me. My heart's great desire  is for him to arrive before Christmas. I just don't want to go through another Christmas alone.

With regard to moving into the homeless shelter, I am just not certain what to do. I have prayed for clarity and I am sure that God will answer my prayers. A good friend of mine from Church told me she just really doesn't want me to do it. She said she knows of places where I could stay and that I could even sleep on a couch at her home for awhile If  I needed to. I told her I  also wondered if God wanted me to go and live with my Dad.I honestly just don't know what is the best thing to do yet. I'm confused.

I'm trying to find my way in this world as a divorced Catholic woman and it isn't easy. I'm not especially holy and the truth is, I don't have a huge desire to be much more holy. People who try too hard to be holy can be really irritating. I am especially irritated by the advice givers - especially those who offer advice but no practical solution.

I don't know what I'm going to do, exactly. I suppose I will be praying quite a lot about it tomorrow.  I pray because I need God, not because I want to be an especially good person. I suppose it is good to be prayerful. But I'm just not trying to win any contests to get into heaven. And I sort of think God totally understands why I woke up this morning on a boat in Amsterdam.

Free Rent

(Please Note: Google Blogger changed its format yesterday and I've yet to locate spellcheck. Sorry!)

I woke up at six-forty-five thinking about numbers -- dollars and priorities. There's something about the experience of calling out to Jesus from the driver's seat while the car is bouncing around the Interstate like an amusement-park ride, calling, "I guess I'm ready, Sweet Jesus; no kidding; I'm sorry for everything I've done wrong." It changes a person's perspective on numbers.

The near-death experience of yesterday afternoon has made me braver. I'm considering seriously going where I've never gone before even though it will alarm some people and I know people will try to talk me out of it. No kidding, I'm thinking about preparing to move into the Homeless Shelter in downtown Ann Arbor for three months starting in October. I thought of this once before during my post paper-newspaper missadventures and people came to my rescue. But I don't like being rescued. There are always strings attached. I'm a very stubborn person. And it's actually my crowning feature as a human. No kidding, I like this about me. I'll get back to the strings that are attached to a rescue in a minute.

The thing is, I'm just a storyteller. It's the only thing I'm any good at. And even when I'm not that good at it, it is what it is. It's who I am. It's what I do -- tell stories. And at the moment I am a storyteller who is writing about her career transition from paper newspapers. So when these events happen in my life -- when a job doesn't quite work out; when I gain fifty pounds; when (like a moron) I get in a nearly fatal car wreck with no car insurance and four more years of payments -- when these events happen, since I am truly the center of my story (and I have fans!), I don't see myself as a victim. It's hard to be a victim when your the protagonist in your own story. It's especially hard to be a victim when you're a storyteller who has a near-death experience.

Almost dying (or is it dieing... there are a few occasions each day when I miss editors) has this way of alligning the priorities of the heart. Here's what I'm feeling:

1. Be my healthiest self physically -- go ahead with that new food plan I had intended to start today even though that means putting nearly half of my paycheck for the next two week toward groceries and nutrition.

2. Continue my committment to this humble and important canvassing work and to writing about my career transition for my "Poor Journalist Gets To Business" series.

3. Keep hoping to fall madly in love with this wonderful man who worked as the Dalai Lama's security guard for thee weeks, served in the U.S. Navy and ran with the bulls in Spain as a young man. He's a keeper. But if he isn't the one for me, plan to fall in love with someone equally wonderful within the next year because it's no good to go to bed alone every night year after year after year. That just isn't living life right -- not for me anyway.

That's it. Those are my priorities: Health, work I can feel good about, belief in the availability of true love to me.

So you see, vehicles and wardrobes and houses do not have a place on the list of most important priorities. They're good things for certain. I like it when I have a reliable car. I loved it when I had a little home with a kitchen and dining room flooded with natural light. I loved it when I had my own queen-sized bed and wonderful bedding (for the past two years I've slept in this unattractive little twin bed that belonged to my roommate's sister before she joined a convent).

I like things but I am not dependent upon them for my happiness. And as the protagonist of my own story, I have to follow the story. I know how to do that. It's what I do best. So no kidding, I'm thinking about moving into the homeless shelter downtown for three months so I can get back on my feet financially.

I thought about moving up to Saginaw to live with my dad. He is 80 and can use the company. I love my father very much but I cannot live with him for three months and keep my sanity. I tried it just before I filed for bankruptcy in 2006. My father loves me and he will always give me money when I ask for it. I wouldn't starve to death, either. But that's part of the problem. My father's entire kitchen is loaded with junk food and desserts. He loves to eat that junk. And since I find it quite stressful to live with him, it's just a recipe for disaster at a time when I am trying to get back on my feet. In addition, my father does not think of me as an adult. I am the baby of seven. In his mind, I haven't yet entered high school. I am still his little girl. This is a problem. It is not the sort of situation that promotes self esteem when a person is trying to overcome a recession and make a career transition. For instance, my father does not allow me to drive his vehicles. He is certain I will wreck them. I have had a few car accidents but never received a ticket in any of them. And other people in my family have been in accidents, too, but they are welcome to drive my father's minivan. This is a baby-of-the family thing. Seriously, he really does relate to me as if I were an elementary school child. He's eighty years old and this aspect of our relationship isn't changing. He gives me instructions each time I refill the ice trays. And when I go out to the store for anything he draws me a map with colored highlighters. The purpose of these maps is to enable me to negotiate my way through Saginaw (where he lives now but not where I was raised) without having to make any left-hand turns. Hey, I'm his baby. Left-hand turns are dangerous. I kid you not. Can't go live with dad. It'll mess me up. Love him, but no.

Friends are going to jump in and offer to let me stay at their homes for a few weeks here or there, I bet. But here's the thing, I don't think the whole Washtenaw County couch-hopping gig would work all that well for me. Maybe I am being stubborn but I tried it before and I still can't stand to talk to one of the people who tried to rescue me. She just about drove me CRAZY! I have a few good friends who I know I could live with seamlessly for a few months and it wouldn't feel like a burden on them or to me. But none of those friends live anywhere near where I live and work today. I have great friends in Washtenaw County, don't get me wrong. I love these people. But there are very few people in the world who anybody could live with for free and not have it feel like a big burden. The few friends who I have who fit in that catagory live in remote places where I would not find a job or public transportation.

So th homeless shelter for three months is a pretty good idea -- very epossibly the best idea. First of all, we must remember that I am a journalist. It's bound to be a journalistic adventure. Second of all, I am a person who firmly believes that anybody can do anything for three months if she accepts that the situation is simply a means to a better future. In the third place, the homeless shelter is really close to where I work. I wouldn't have to worry about the bus and the fact that the last bus from downtown to where I live leaves shortly after 10 p.m. and I work until 10:30 or 11 p.m. most nights.

So seriously, I'm really thinking about it. It might be perfect(Well, in an imperfect sort of way. I've no illusion that it will be easy.).

Please don't gasp. PLEASE, just don't.

The Window

I sat outside and drank a raspberry beer from Dark Horse Brewery in Marshall tonight and contemplated life and circumstances. Emily Woodcock bought the beer because she knows it's my favorite and I'd had such a horrible day having had my nearly fatal car accident and then realizing may insurance had lapsed and all. I hardly ever have an alcoholic beverage and I hate to even mention it due to my many beloved recovering alcoholics in my life. But somehow tonight that Raspberry beer was a real treat. It reminded me, I suppose, that I'm just a regular old girl and I've never really aspired to be much more than that.

What a beautiful night it was for sitting outside, though. Earlier, Greg Sobczynski had played me an early vinyl Greatful Dead album because of some things I'd been saying about life and death and fate and everything. It was all good and fitting and it was soul food to be around people who care about me. Greg and Emily run the Ann Arbor Clean Water Action office and have been a couple for many years. They fit together very well. I like them and feel lucky to work for such nice people.

Emily persuaded me to come out of the house tonight. I had to pick up my check anyway. I need it. I've absolutely no money. We get paid on Thursday nights and Thursdays are also staff night. Staff night is a time when canvassers all over the United States throughout the Clean Water/Environmental network get together in their various cities for socializing. Work talk generally doesn't happen, except as it relates to good storytelling.

Greg told me some jokes. I told him my two jokes. It's all I got. I've been retelling the same two jokes for twenty years. We sang each other some really old school folk songs. Emily and this guy named Nick who hiked the Appalachian Trail this summer did some wierd video disco game. They were jumping all over the basement with this rapid-fire footwork.

Megan Owens, an old friend from my Chicago years, posted on my Facebook page from her home near Sacramento that I should start feeling around for a window.

It's easy to get all philosophical and a little bit crazy when something big happens -- like crashing a vehicle and narrowly escaping death. It's easy to start contemplating a special purpose, the reason for existance, big questions such as those.

But you know, I just don't have energy today for big questions or big solutions. I made a decision to put my health first and trust that my finances and everything else would fall into place.

So now I am going to bed -- grateful for the loving friends and family members who I have in my life today -- and grateful that I do have a job to go to tomorrow. I'll work something out with this financial mess. I guess I'll make payments or something. I'll figure something out with my car. I can take the bus to work. Emily said she can give me some rides home. There are other staff members who live near me, too. It will all work out.

For awhile today I felt panicked. I wanted to move to a state with better jobs. I wanted to make more money. I wanted to feel secure.

But nothing's secure. There are no sure bets in life. We're really not in control of much of anything. Days like today reinforce that reality.

So I am going to keep walking for the Great Lakes through February sixth as I had planned. It's work I value and every week I feel myself getting healthier for it. I'm learning a great deal, too -- about leadership and being a team player. I'm also learning so much about keeping a positive attitude, about trusting, about keeping my side of the fence clean.

If something else comes my way, I'll consider it. But I don't have the energy to push and pull and weasel my way into something else just because it pays a little bit better. This job doesn't pay much, that's true. But it is secure. And if I get better at it, there will be opportunities to earn more money than I am making at the moment. And I shouldn't even say "if" I get better at it. The fact is, I will get better at it because I am working hard.

I'm pretty shook up about that accident, though. I guess I'm glad that I don't have to figure everything out.

Hope is faith holding its hand out in the dark, right? That's my mantra and I'm sticking to it.

Thanks everybody for being so awesome.

(Note... the format for the Blogger has changed and I can't find spell check or how to post a photo. Sorry!)

I Know Who Holds Tomorrow

The numbers are what made me cry -- just not enough of them going into my checking account this week to deal with the situation at hand.

The tow truck driver looked over at me as he prepared to tow the car I'll be paying on for four more years from the median of I-94 Westbound to an undetermined location. Nicest tow-truck driver in the world. Josh. His wife is a Pittsfield Township cop. I didn't know all this until about twenty minutes later when he was unhooking my car at my home. But I could tell the minute he hopped in the driver's seat, through all my tears and snot, he was a pretty good guy.

"Not the best day, huh," he said.

"It's a terrible day," I said. The weather, couldn't have been better, 76 and sunny when I left the house -- and I'd just walked away from a crash that could very well have been fatal. It isn't the first nearly-fatal crash I've walked away from. When I was a reporter in West Virginia a truck plowed into me during a light snow when I was trying gingerly to make my way around a mountain. I went airbound in my Chevy Corsica. No kidding, I flew through the air that day. Thankfully snow and tall grass cushioned my landing. I took out a fence. The car slid about two-hundred feet through a farmer's field. People from the holler gathered on the road up on the mountain and watched me open the car door and walk through the valley. I might have waved to them or something; I don't recall. I just remember sitting in this truck with the guy who pushed me off the mountain waiting for what seemed like forever for the sheriff's deputy to arrive. When he did, he had a few simple questions: "Been drinking?" We said no. "Anybody shooting any guns?" Again we said no. "Been feudin'?" The accident report was pretty straight forward, even though I'd just flown through the air off the side of a mountain -- not the sort of thing that happens to a Michigan girl every day.

The police officer (who kept borrowing my pen today) asked me what happened. I told him traffic stopped quickly in front of me. It was either smash into the car in front of me or get in the median. I think the car in front of me swerved into the median for a second, too. It was fast. I clipped the wall. My car flipped in a fish tail and my backside hit the wall, too. Then it flipped again. My airbag didn't even activate. A bunch of cars pulled over and asked me if I was OK. I got out of the car so everybody could see me. No blood. No guts. I had been wearing my seatbelt. Hadn't been on the phone, hadn't even been drinking a pop or anything -- I had just been on my way to work. I waved to the people in the passing cars. "I'm OK," I said. "Are you sure you're OK?" A bunch of drivers asked. "Yes," I said. "Not a scratch."

Something like that... It's such a jumble.

The officer asked me for my insurance and registration. He went back to his car with my license. I couldn't find my insurance and registration -- not in my glove box. I admit, I am not detail oriented. Sometimes I forget to put things like that in the glove box. I don't know why I do these things! I told him I would look for it in the back seat while he processed my license. I ruffled through all the Aflac brochures in my back seat and couldn't find it anywhere. I called my insurance agent. He wasn't there. He had been calling me a couple of times a week to get me to sell insurance with him. He wants me to get licensed to sell property and auto insurance. I almost did. But I just don't like insurance. It doesn't make me happy. I was getting fat selling the Aflac. Seriously, I gained fifty pounds in six months. That's a sign that it's not a good fit. That's a sign that something needs to give. So, I just didn't get around to calling him back.

I should have called him, though. This afternoon his secretary told me my insurance was due on the Sixth of September. Damn it. Seriously, I thought I was paid up. I am sure he had sent me a notice. But I swear to you, I thought my insurance was paid. It seemed as though I had JUST PAID it.

So that's why I was crying in the tow truck. I felt like such an idiot. I told Josh. I said, "I can't believe what an idiot I am!"

He said,"You're lucky you're alive. I've seen crashes that aren't nearly this bad and the people die."

"That's true," I said, grateful I'm so anal about seatbelts.

"And you made the right choice by going into the median," he said. "You could have killed someone in the car in front of you."

"That's true," I said. "I am a pretty good driver."

"You're just lucky nobody's dead or even hurt."

"And I didn't even hit anything but the wall," I said. "That would have been REALLY bad if I'd hit another car with no insurance."

He saved my bumper and the lights for me, said it looks like they can be put back on. The trunk is a bit smashed but it opens and closes. The radiator is moved a bit, he said. But it looks like maybe it's still OK.
That's the main thing that could be a problem, he said -- the radiator. Other than that, he said it might just be cosmetic. I asked him about the frame. The police officer thought maybe I'd messed it up. Josh was a mechanic before he started driving the tow truck ten years ago. He got under my car for and looked at it. He said it doesn't look like the frame is messed up.

I just bought two new tires for that car. It doesn't even have 40,000 miles on it yet.

It's not a happy situation. It's going to cost me.

Everything does, though, doesn't it?

I told Josh how much I appreciated his kindness. He assured me I wasn't nearly as much of an emotional wreck as half the people who have things like this happen. He also shared stories about other people's hard luck that made me feel super fortunate. Misery loves company. One woman he'd towed recently had packed up everything she'd owned into a moter home to head out of state and start a new life. About twenty miles into her trip she rolled her home on wheels and lost everything. What wasn't wrecked in the accident was damaged by the firefighters who hosed down the crash. Josh's wife worked exclusively with domestic violence cases for two years. Josh himself has picked up Christmas presents that have been scattered all over the highway.

Today wasn't the greatest day of my life. But I know enough from having been a reporter for more than ten years to realize this day is really small potatoes in the scheme of calamities.

The numbers do make me feel like crying more, though. Maybe I'll cry again. I think I could use a really good cry. Maybe I'll watch a sad movie.


Even though I feel as though I want to cry my heart out, I'm so grateful to be sitting here without a scratch. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you Guardian Angel.

St. Joseph, pray for my car situaion.

St. Anne, St. Anne, send me a man.

;-)