O is for Olive

I've had big dogs for almost 30 years now. Not just any big dogs...always a Giant Schnauzer. They're so smart and can learn almost anything (besides teaching you a thing or two). They have a keen sense of humor, know when something is funny and how to make you laugh. I had more time to spend training Olive, since my daughter was an adult when Olive showed up. That initial training has paid off in ways you can't imagine. I recommend the book Don't Shoot the Dog, which explains "shaping behavior." It's how they teach chickens to dance, and dolphins to perform precision choreography. It also works on humans (its theories have definitely helped me with my Asperger husband)...but it's very counterintuitive. Just let go and lean in...it's worth it.

Once I read an article that said that the love for dogs stimulates an area in your brain that is very different from the area reserved for loving people. That makes so much sense to me. I like to keep both those areas lit up as much as possible, it feels so good. Everyone should encourage the enjoyable company of dogs to keep those synapses firing. Don't let that area of your brain dim out if you can help it.

Our island friend Katherine featured Olive (and my grand-dog Pepper) in her blog, and shows off her handiwork on Olive's behalf. She created a "faux paw" for Olive after she'd had the fur shaved off of her leg for some exploratory poking and prodding at the vet's. There's a photo of Olive's skinny, shaved version at the link.

For a close up of the "cure," click on the image above and see what a great illusion Katherine's creation is! You might wonder what prompted the inspiration of creating such a thing.

Olive is used to the island "PupPerazzi," which is what we call visitors to the island who miss the family dogs they've left behind. Understandably as we're spotted going on one of our daily walks with her by these animal lovers, they are dying to lavish their doggie affection on Olive. After all this time, though she's not what could be described as enthusiastic, she's calm, accommodating, and will tolerate a fair amount of attention without complaint. She'll offer a "high five," and have her photo taken with strangers holding her leash...she's the equivalent of a celebrity willing to take time for her fans, even in the middle of a favorite activity. However, because of her status as surrogate dog, Olive is used to hearing a very specific set of words from those who approach her, usually in this order:

Q: What kind of dog is it?

A: SHE's a Giant Schnauzer.

Q: What is her name?

A: Olive - Big Black Olive - All Love.

Q: How old is she?

A: Eight.

General exclamation (at any time in the process): WHAT A BEAUTIFUL _______ (Baby, Dog, Puppy)!!!

Comeback: Thanks, she thinks you're great too!

That's about it, and she hears that series of words over and over. She immediately knows she's in for some manhandling and that our walk is going to be interrupted whenever someone starts to fawn over her.

Enter the shaved leg/paw, and a new, very different set of words rush in, with a very different voice intonation. No longer is she beautiful...a Giant Schnauzer, eight, or Olive.

Exclamation: OHHHH....what happened to her paw/leg/foot?

Olive's response: She tucks her foot in, hangs her head....

Slip on the fuzzy noodle that is Katherine's carefully crafted "Faux Paw" and she's transformed:

Beautiful Olive, eight-year-old Giant Schnauzer!

(here with her friend Riley)

Gaylin - It's a Wrap...

Our dear Gaylin is gone.
June 19, 1926 - July 1, 2008

Allaboutjazz.com posted a great article about Gaylin's notable career in the movie business, which has sadly reached its final scene. You can see his IMDB biography here.

Those close to Gaylin Schultz watched as he fought the good fight while dealing with his cancer. As if the loss of his wife and best friend Marlene in 2005 wasn't challenging enough, there was also the constant battle with his health. With careful attention, he proactively took his treatments and visited his doctor when any new or unusual symptoms cropped up. He followed doctor's orders. Though he missed Marlene terribly, he managed to survive and transcend her loss, honoring her memory and their lives together.

I thanked him once for taking care of himself, knowing that wives were usually the force behind keeping their men healthy. Gaylin didn't see it as a choice. It was his duty if he wanted to stay around. He worked hard at beating cancer and staying healthy, and prolonged his life because of it.

We'd known him for about a year or so when I told him how much I enjoyed and valued him, and how I wished we'd met sooner. My comment must have been delivered with a sadness that revealed my concern for his health and mortality. He completely discounted my silly statement, telling me that he'd be around for a long time yet. He said we met while there's still plenty of time left for me to enjoy him. I wanted that to be true.

The last time we saw Gaylin was June 19th, his 82nd birthday. Scott and I could tell if he was on the island by checking for his bicycle (which I named Big Thunder). If it was parked outside of his house, it was the same as if a flag was flying, announcing his presence. Gaylin was an early riser, and we often met him at Joe's for breakfast by 6 a.m. He'd ride Big Thunder from his home on Eucalyptus to the little Vons, park it, and walk to Joe's. The three of us would have coffee together, and dine on one short stack of pancakes (which was two pancakes - see above: I'm eating the other half of Gaylin's and Scott gets his own pancake), sharing the "pure maple syrup" that Scott keeps at the restaurant.

He'd often tell us about his adventures on movie sets and travels (with Marlene along, of course) as a grip, which included stories about famous actors, directors and well known films. That day, Scott mentioned that the pancakes were exceptionally good and Gaylin said it was probably because it was his birthday. That's how we found out he was 82. I felt happy to know that he was celebrating the day on the island. After breakfast, we walked with him as he rode home on Big Thunder, knowing we'd see him again during the day.

Later that morning, my daughter and her husband visited the island. We were celebrating the fact that my son-in-law (a Marine serving his second tour of Iraq) had just arrived and was beginning his two-week leave. As we walked here and there, we saw Gaylin around town several times throughout the day, wishing him Happy Birthday each time. A few months before at breakfast I'd called him "Mr." Gaylin for some reason. Startled, he looked at me with perplexed surprise, explaining that his father always called him "Mr." Gaylin, even when he was a little boy. When we saw him again that day, I told him I had a special message from his dad which was, "Happy Birthday, Mr. Gaylin!" He nodded and waved as he watered his garden.

Though he seemed a little weaker than usual, he was as busy and industrious as ever, riding around town on Big Thunder, and relaxing in the harbor on his boat, Marlena. He was always busy inventing a way to improve something, even if he'd already invented it once and improved it twice before.

On Friday, I received a call letting me know that Gaylin suffered a setback with his last cancer treatment, and I called him immediately. At the beginning of the call he sounded very weak, but by the end, he sounded like Gaylin. I think he must have rallied just enough to convince me that he was going through a rough patch, but would be fine. He explained that his last treatment was Monday the 23rd, the beginning of a new series of cancer treatments. He said that after the treatment he had extra energy and did lots of chores on Monday and Tuesday. On Wednesday though, he was hit hard by the aftermath of the treatment. He fell down multiple times and was too weak to get up. He stayed in bed for 30 hours, trying to regain his strength.

He told me he knew he would need some help recuperating, and called a friend, who had stayed with him before under similar circumstances. She would arrive on Sunday. He said he had a doctor's appointment on Monday. He kept assuring me he'd be okay. I told him I thought Monday sounded a long way off for someone who felt as poorly as he did. "I'm feeling better," he assured me. "Do you want me to drive over right now? I will hop in the car this minute!", I said. "I'll even stay at the curb if you want. You can just wave at me through the window if you don't want me to come in, but you'll know I'm out there." "No," he said. "I'll take a rain check, but thanks for the offer, and for calling."

I spoke to Gaylin the next morning. Again, he assured me he was feeling better. I didn't anticipate that three days later when Monday came, it would be his last day. I set a "Gaylin" alarm on my phone that rang everyday at 8 a.m., reminding me to call him. I missed calling him Monday. When it rang Tuesday (church bells), I felt like it was Gaylin ringing my doorbell for a visit. He was the greatest. I'll miss him so much. I kept the alarm active for the rest of the month, taking that time each morning to remember the times we spent together and to think about him.

He'd told us many times that his nightly ritual was influenced by the years he'd spent on movie sets. His day ended promptly at 7:30 p.m., when he proclaimed out loud, "It's a wrap!", then it was off to bed. We imagined that his day's shoot was "in the can" and he would start shooting fresh in the morning.

Sadly, there's not another script, another set, or new creative challenges for the seasoned professional to conquer. Gaylin's story was one of the satisfaction of an interesting life doing exactly what he loved. It included the deep and lasting love of his wife, world travel, and a cast of characters who's affection, respect and friendship added depth and rich layers to the story of a remarkable man.

Gaylin changed me. Because of him, I know these things:

• That you can meet a person who instantly feels like family, yet they've lived their entire life without you in it.
  
  
• That the characteristics that define how valuable you've been in your professional life, also define how valuable you remain until the end of your days.
  
  
• That it's a comfort to have the "Gaylin" Mii in our Nintendo Wii game. He's still on our team in the virtual world and playing games with us. I'm happy that we played Wii bowling together and that his Mii looks just like him.
  
  
• That a stack of "rain checks" for dinners and visits to our mainland home doesn't guarantee they'll ever get used....but it's fun to imagine that they might have.
  


• That a custom-built-by-Gaylin outdoor table to keep our dog's food and water bowls in the shade is not ridiculous, but a pleasurable project, and can be impeccably completed by a man in his eighties only weeks before his death.

I miss you, dear frien...

Zone Cruise to Bermuda

For my mother's birthday (39th) I took her on a "Zone Cruise" to Bermuda with Dr. Barry Sears and his group. Is it really a vacation if you travel under the guise of a healthy week of the Zone Diet and seminars? Yes! We were joined by Scott's parents and sisters and had a great time.

Along with Barry Sears, Dr. Julien Bailes, noted neurosurgeon, was also a speaker at the seminars. He worked with the sole survivor of the Sago mine disaster, Randy McCloy, to restore his health and brain function using a therapy that included high dose fish oil.

Though Hurricane Bertha was looming, the weather was beautiful and the seas were fairly mild. The subject of the event was "Build a Better Brain." We'll all be giving their theories a try and let you know how it goes!

Bob & Elliette

The crew managed to capture these, and of course Bev found them!
(Kim & Lisa must've escaped the photo op.)

"39-year-old" Bev and Me (39 too, why not?)

Back from Bermuda

Here's Bob supervising Elliette as she's adjusting everyone's lifejacket straps at Muster. We were all safer because of her attention to detail! She moved through the crowd with an air of authority that allowed her to approach total strangers and spend a few minutes on their straps, chatting reassuringly the whole time. I loved this guy's face, he was such a great sport.

One of many highlights of the trip for me (as in getting to know Scott's family so much better) was Elliette's description of the difference between my calm demeanor during stressful times, and Scott's. We were on a very pleasant ferry boat ride back to St. George's after visiting Hamilton. When describing me, she related several examples that she had observed. She was sweet and complimentary and very descriptive.

When she got around to describing Scott, her example was succinct, "A bug flies through the window----World War III!"

It was such a heartfelt, simple description delivered with such sincerity, and so accurate that it caught me off guard. I laughed until I cried, which produced the same result from both my mother and Elliette. Remarkable and memorable...

List of Preferred Dining Companions

Small town life is magnified on an island. Certainly concerning relationships. There are no "out of the way" spots with which to conduct your "personal affairs," if you're having them. There is an extremely limited inventory of available mates, and certainly no chance for delusion regarding their "potential", which is freely demonstrated for all to witness, and discussed at length, whether truth or rumored. I know this from making favorable comments about a seemingly single male to a single girlfriend and was filled to the brim with his unfortunate history, which was certainly not evident through casual social interaction with him.

We're all neighbors in close quarters after all, so if you've ever had an unreasonable (possibly drunken) argument with any volume to it, it's part of your history as a mate, and the anecdote travels with you. By the time you "hook up" with someone, it's already "buyer beware" due to your (or your neighbors') intimate knowledge, either of you, your new mate, or both.

New chemistry derails logical thinking (thank heavens), so you do get the illusion of a fresh start, but it's most likely with well-worn goods. It's not that this isn't the case with mainland relationships, it's just that there are fewer available witnesses.

The saying on the island is "You don't lose your woman, you lose your turn." When I was first enlightened to this philosophy, I physically recoiled. I did a double take with eyebrows raised, fully realizing that sayings like that evolve out of truth. They're invented with the intention of normalizing a situation.

So, when we arrived (already having been a couple for six years) we had a "mainland relationship" reality. One luxury of that, is that unless you have children, if and when you break up with your mate, you simply don't run into them again, or if so, it's infrequent.

The island has one small grocery store and an imposter store (a smaller version using the same name) posing as a second option. There's no mail delivery either, so as you breeze in to pick up mail from your PO Box, or drop in for a few essentials at the market, you are guaranteed a daily dose of your ex-mate and/or reports of their current shenanigans. Whether through a personal sighting or a "helpfully communicated" anecdote by concerned parties, you'll definitely know more than you'd like. It's also uncomfortable to witness those heartbroken singles who've lost their love (and you know about it because everyone knows about it) running into them again and again with the "replacement" partner gloating openly.

My husband and I have a relationship based on trust and respect. It's a very atypical marriage, in that we subscribe to the "two-house" method. This arrangement evolved for reasons I will go into someday (the first being his Aspergers', but also that the GM EV1 electric car burned our house down and he got another EV1 right away, but I digress). The point is that I am still very connected to my life on the mainland, so when I'm off the island and my husband is on the island (he seldom leaves), I encourage and expect him to enjoy a meal here and there with friends and acquaintances.

He's a terribly picky eater and a super-slim guy with no fat reserves. He truly needs to eat. He often forgets to eat, or confuses the sensation of hunger with other issues. Is he lonely? Bored? Needing a walk? What?

In this small community, if the wife is off the island and the husband is dining with female(s) who are decidely "not the wife," it stirs up the curiosity and whispers of those who concern themselves with such things. So, we have a network of "preferred" dinner companions...friends who know that he could probably use a meal and know that he'd be happy to treat them to one.

The potential for small town rumors disturbs my husband, so I suggested posting an ad in the local newspaper, letting one and all know that we are in agreement with the arrangement, and include the names and/or photos of the most likely dinner companions. If you're not on the list, but are interested in becoming a PDC (preferred dining companion), you can call or email your qualifications and interest. Of course, if you notice he's dining with someone not on the accepted list, there will be a number to call to report it, in the same way that trucks have that bumper sticker to encourage responsible driving. He'll wear a t-shirt that says, "Where's he dining? Call 1-800-ISawHim."

Scott's Birthday Quote

When offered congratulations on his making it another year:

"Time did all the heavy lifting. I'm just along for the ride."

Mainland Transplants

In denial since 2004 (when I made my first trip to the island), I've now come to realize that our future here is likely permanent. Fantasies of moving to a desert (or tropical) island aside, there are realities associated with such fantasies that are rich and rare and often inconvenient.

In all fairness, since our arrival in 2004 until only very recently, the island has always meant unpleasant administrative-type work (and lots of it) to me. Also the nature of our involvement with people seemed invasive or intrusive to me (though not at all to my husband). That's not the best way to get introduced to the island's rare beauty and unique lifestyle.

We were immersed in the cultural anomalies before we ever got a chance to assimilate in an orderly fashion (which is a post for another day). Add to that, all of our deficiencies that have kept us from enjoying the island's incredible offerings. We're not boaters, we don't fish, play golf, attend church, drink much alcohol, have a business, go mountain biking, run marathons, surf, kayak or camp out (at least not since we've been here, but after taking that inventory, it's got me wondering what's left, and what exactly do we do?).

Then there's the reality of "belonging." I moved to Laguna Beach, a town of about 25,000 residents, in 1992. It became clear that you weren't considered a "local" until you could relate to about 20 years of history living there. Because I participated in the local art festival right away, I was on a bit of a fast track, enjoyed acceptance and made friends easily in the artist community. Even so, I still understood and respected that I hadn't paid enough dues to be dubbed a local.

In the town of Avalon, with an estimated 3,500 residents, it seems you are considered FOB (fresh off the boat) for at least 20 years, according to some. Scott and I are very "closely held" in general due to his Aspergers' and should really be considered "feral kitties" anyway. But when you ask someone how long they've lived on the island, the answer is likely, "no more than anybody else, around 50 years." Game over...I was 50 when I got here.

At any rate, I found a passage in a book that sums up my personal experience as an Avalon "transient." John McPhee, author of The Crofter and the Laird, describes life on the island of Colonsay as a temporary member of its society. I replaced the town name of Colonsay with Avalon, and for me, the quote still seems to fit quite nicely:

"...(Avalon) is less like a small town than like a large lifeboat. By a scale of things that begins with cities and runs to hamlets, the island is some distance off the end. The usual frictions, gossip, and intense social espionage that characterize life in a small town are so grandly magnified on an island that they sometimes appear in surprising form, in the way that patches of skin magnified a hundred diameters may appear to be landscapes of the moon. Air and water, sea and sky, life is imploded upon the people here by the blue bottle that surrounds them. Everyone is many things to everyone else, and is encountered daily in a dozen guises. Enmeshed together, the people of the island become one another."

As much as I appreciate that quote, I have another that I love, written by Philip Wrigley Jr., specifically about Avalon. I memorized the quote, since it was written in a letter to a family friend. I had the opportunity to read it, and discussed it with the friend, who wished to keep it private until his death. Since he's now gone, I'll share it here, with the few who are possibly reading this. If you know the island at all, you know that the Wrigley family has a rich legacy on the island dating back to the 1920s, that continues to this day. I have great respect for their vision and intentions for the island, even though the battle goes on between the "Powers that Be" (Wrigley entities), the community in general and those that consider themselves "Island Royalty."

At any rate, on December 4th, 1975, on his official letterhead, he wrote, "Your big basket of lobsters arrived just the day before Thanksgiving, and it gave us all a chance to be thankful for having a friend like (you), who has been true, loyal and honest. This is more than I can say for most everybody else in Avalon, a small town with small ideas, cliques of various factions, petty jealousies and political intrigue..."

Phillip Wrigley Jr. loved the island, enjoyed its beauty and accepted its realities...I have learned...am learning...to do the same...

Unplugged in the Galapagos

I've been back for a full week now. Back from the life-changing experience of a vacation in the Galapagos with my dear friend Karin. My intention is to go into detail, upload photos and such, but...we'll see. Between us, we've got over 1500 photos, each more beautiful, interesting, haunting, hilarious, and engaging than the next. How to choose a few representative examples?

This was our first experience traveling together, and it was a spontaneous riot of fun and laughter from the first second. (except when she beat me at Scrabble on the plane to Miami...I believe there was gloating...)


In the meantime, here's a photo of us with our new best friend, and the two videos that follow sum up the shenanigans and fun we had!

Here's the video that helped identify the source of a mysterious sound on our balcony deck...keep in mind that we're at sea, skirting the Galapagos Islands. You were only allowed to bring a total of 28 pounds of luggage, including the suitcase itself...

Here's KP pantomiming to the sound
(prior to solving the mystery)...

I love my frien KP! We were easy travelers.

My Inner Circle - The Innerest

You are part of my inner circle, or you wouldn't be able to see this blog. But if you are someone who wonders where I am now and again, you may also wonder who really might know. I have disdain for the worry I cause people. The list of people who are consistently let in to my world (regardless of the mayhem that is underway) follows:

1. Jillian
2. Scott

My daughter's calls are answered without hesitation if I have my phone nearby, it has enough juice, it's on and if I can tell it's her. My husband enjoys the same experience. He and I are opposites in the phone arena. He still has the knee-jerk telephone etiquette of the 50s, where you break your toe getting out of the shower to answer the miraculous new convenience called the phone. I love that about him. He doesn't have Caller ID, and doesn't want it.

As high on the list as they are, they will also tell you that I am often unavailable to them too, since I sometimes turn off the ringer, forget to take my phone when I walk the dog, or leave it in the car when I'm on the mainland.

There they are...the innerest. The only way these two people can make a "circle" is if they hold hands and step back with bowed arms. Highly unlikely, since one is on the mainland and one is on the island, but they still qualify as the innerest.

From there, the hierarchy is very subjective depending on the caller's "maintenance" level, my history with the person, current projects and current preoccupation. Regardless of all of those things, if my anxiety level escalates the second I hear it ring, I will ignore it completely, and audibly blurt out "Ohhh no." I won't even care to see what the caller ID says or if a message was left. Peace and calm, so easily restored.

Since you are among the truly loved, you are actually more likely to lack convenient access than less familiar people in my life who actually require my input for one reason or another. I know you, and trust that we'll still know and love each other regardless of infrequent contact. I feel this way because you've already apparently accepted me as I am, and forgiven me again and again. (~thank you~)

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Okay, six months of living has stirred up a lot of frenetic activity and whatnots...where to begin?

The Good:

1. Olive's toe cancer is "gone". No more treatments or doctor's appointments.
2. I got my first passport ever! A trip to the Galapagos that Karin and I fantasized about last year is happening in a month!
3. Bev is doing great, as usual. She's making daily sandwiches for the contractor and crew who are doing some remodeling for us on the hill in Laguna.
4. I optomistically started a corporation to accomodate a new business idea, a mainland shopping service for islanders called Best of Overtown. I can hardly wait to actually run this business.
5. After almost forty years, Sheryl quit smoking in June.
6. My nephew, Sam, who has been on the "list" for a kidney for eight years, received a kidney transplant yesterday! He looks great, according to Jillian, who flew up last night to see him.
7. Bev got a new deck, Scott's house got a new kitchen and deck.
8. We're remodeling the Descanso duplex (on the island).
9. Construction, er...destruction has begun on the big house on the island. Construction to follow shortly.
10. Scott is learning to use Mass Transit! He took the bus from L.A. to Orange County, with a few mishaps, but eventual success.
11. The fire on the island destroyed very little of the city of Avalon.
12. Our faith in hard work and honesty was validated by the successful operation of the island store we were trying to help/save, by two locals who had no experience running a store. They were amazing and resilient and successful.
    

The Bad:

1. Like an idiot, in May, I optimistically tried to launch a business without any real quality time to do so.
2. Sheryl had a heart attack in June.
3. Sheryl has gallbladder issues as well.
4. Johnny left for Iraq again this week. He is expected to stay for 13 months this time, but we're hoping for an earlier return.
5. Scott's mother had a stroke, was hospitalized for two weeks, but is recovering nicely, though shaken by the "mortality factor".
6. As of the last few weeks, the stock market is very volatile and unpredictable...very stressful for Scott. But that item should really be put under The Good too, because it works both ways.
7. The reality of disrespectful, bigoted, selfish and dishonest types revealed itself while trying to do something good... Scott's mantra, "Err on the side of kindness" was very difficult to maintain at times. Six months of another hard lesson learned.

The Ugly:

1. In August, a long-time family friend was "abducted" by "friends of his", consuming months of time and energy with court matters. His trust protected him, but it took our personal money in legal fees, hassle with court dates, as well as a lot of emotional damage just to protect him.

Testing, testing...is this thing on?

It's January 18th, 2008. The last six months have had me tucking in my "turtle head" and waiting for things to blow over, calm down, resolve themselves, etc. I've received so many emails, voice messages and the like from familiar and familial cherished forms of life who actually know how to thrive and stay socially connected regardless of what life dishes out. What they all have in common (besides excellent coping skills) is the concern for my whereabouts and whatabouts.

Though I've always had phone anxiety, it's now spilled over into my email...which used to be a bit more reliable way of reaching me.

So, I want you...the lovely, caring person who gives me plenty of leeway to ignore, insult, concern and abuse you and your generous spirit, to know that I love you.

The words written here are meant to slough off some of the cranial overflow I experience in snowballing proportions at times...which causes me to exhibit reclusive behavior. For me, it feels peaceful, calm. I listen to good music and work on various accounting projects. I work on winding up situations that have consumed my time and energy. I daydream about reclaiming my creative self. For you, it feels like I've dropped off of the face of the earth.

Though I seem to be suffering stress (a little more than usual), I'm avoiding a mental breakdown largely in part because I "check out". I don't answer my phone when it rings, or listen to the resulting voice mail messages. If I miss a day of reading my emails, it quickly dooms them to the bottom of the unending stream of incoming messages and out of my field of view (which remarkably resembles being deleted). While I continue to work on developing the art of saying no in person, I've already mastered the art of saying no before I hear the question. My method has this all happen seamlessly. I wouldn't call it passive/aggressive behavior, I'd call it passive/passive behavior...I mean no harm and am merely protecting my calm.

This behavior really shouldn't be inflicted on those who just want to catch up with their friend and aren't calling with an "action item", and I realize that. It's unfair and inconsiderate. The problem with "catching up" is where to begin in my lengthy list and whether I want to hear myself repeat the details of my frenetic life out loud. I prefer to protect others from the quirky activities that have somehow been normalized in my world. I could attempt deception and say "Oh, same 'ol same 'ol", but I have no poker face/voice and would quickly get coerced into launching into my real-life implausible circumstances that make for an interesting tale. The truth is, my favorite conversation would be about you, your life, your family, your passion...it's been a long time since I've enjoyed you with abandon.

Oddly, during these hermity times I don't consciously feel depressed, bored, lonely or isolated. I feel peaceful, calm. The only emotion that worries me is my apathy regarding the worry I'm causing some people, even though apathy is quite useful when "checking out". Apathy facilitates the "guilt-free" factor that took years to perfect.

I am so grateful for you...make no mistake. I am so grateful for so many things. The quality friens and loving family who choose to stay in my life even after my behavior has inconvenienced and/or worried them gives me an unbelievably lucky feeling...and because I sometimes catch a fleeting glimpse of an email with your name in the "From" column before it cascades rapidly out of view, or see your number on my Caller ID, I know you check in once in a while. Seeing that, it registers that you are out there and okay. I like to believe that you are safe and happy...and I'm working on being available enough to find out for sure...xo