Countdown

I am so sorry.  I wrote down the information about the weekend workshop, and then let it slip into maybe-land.  I can't get out there.  I am feeling very January-trapped.  This happens every year - I wonder how we are going to make it through the month.  We always do, but not without a lot of fretting.  I am so glad your husband can go.  I really look forward to hearing details.  I want lots of details...

I have a meeting tomorrow that could lead to an additional part-time job.  Hold me in the Light please.  Extra income flowing into this household would be a major blessing.

I think the only family Christmas card I got this year was from you.  And I loved it.  I have many of your cards from over the years, because they are always so...real and clever and fun.  I love Christmas cards, but have not had the money to send them for the last few years.  I think everyone else in the family just crossed me off their lists.  I know S#3 is in the same boat - just can't afford it.

I wonder if you could explore hope, or define hope, or reach out for hope from a place of hopelessness.  It might make for a very different perspective.  How do we recognize hope from that place.  And many of the people you will be working with will be in that place.

You describe depression as a grey veil.  To me it is cold - so cold, I am numb.  I can't move.  It is the same kind of cold as sugar.  Once I put sugar on my tongue and sensed it.  It was cold and dead.  They I put raw honey on my tongue.  It was warm and alive.  I want a honey-life!

I tend to ignore men who notice me.  Maybe I believe I am a broken vessel.  I don't believe there is anyone who would ever say "Mine." and so I never get to that point.

I watched a video today that made me cry. 

Ah, I found it:http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/2013/12/13/jeremy-loveday-masks-off_n_4442223.html

He says:  Choosing silence allows violence.

That hit home.

Than I read a creative writing piece that explored why a woman set her boyfriend on fire.  It was poetic, perhaps a blog.  But if he didn't want to be set on fire, why was he wearing flammable clothes, and you know, this wasn't the first time he had been seen at the campfire.  It continued on, exploring all the reasons why women deserve to be raped but twisting it enough to make it uncomfortable and eye-opening.

So that's my day.  And I am tired.

Again, I apologize about next weekend...

Love from Clare