Well, apparently that last little magical thing I’d kept stored in my heart turned out to be an illusion, too.

Now I’m completely disillusioned, which was the whole point of this blog. After a rough few weeks, I’m finally ready to move on.

I’m done with feeling sorry for myself for any of the hurts, including the disguised one of “I’m done since I obviously can’t trust myself to only trust the trustworthy” that tries to pass itself off as a lesson learned.

I am feeling very free and full of energy. I am an open person who enjoys being that way. If I get hurt again, so what.

I’m bored with the analyzing and energized by my spring plans of planting vegetables, herbs and flowers.

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I’m sure this blog post title will get me on some kind of government list, but if it gets my blog more hits, so be it.

Sunday I decided it might be my last chance to swim in the lake near my new home. The season is over, so it isn’t crowded. I had gone the weekend before to sit under the trees and read a book.

I’m not prissy about nature. I enthusiastically accept the excrement of wild animals as part of the environment.

When I sat in the wooded area the weekend before, I didn’t get grossed out about walking around the Canadian geese poop. Even though there was quite a bit of it, and even though it looked more carnivorous-mammalian than the green Canadian geese poop I sometimes dodged walking in North Carolina.

This visit, I headed to the sandy section. I don’t know why I expected it to be excrement-free. Does a bear sh*t in the woods? Would geese only sh*t in the woods?

No, and not only in the woods and in the sand. In the water, too. The whole bottom of the lake was like a big Canadian geese toilet.

This park charges during the summer season, albeit a small amount. One of my neighbors said this problem is controlled during the summer. But I’m wondering how it can be controlled IN the water?

I love the geese, but the turds were just everywhere. The turds were the main thing you saw. It was just too much. If these geese can produce that much sh*t since Labor Day, imagine what I’d be walking through by Christmas?

Well, I’m an ocean person anyway, so I guess I’ll try to get a swim in the Atlantic before the water gets too cold.

At least the ocean keeps flushing.

R*** B**** now legally owns our family homeplace. The closing was a couple of weeks ago. He has every legal right to landscape it to his liking.

My mom was right. That house, even in the summer, was never hot in the morning. Not with those trees in the backyard.

When Hurricane Sandy hit, a deer took shelter under one of the evergreen trees. A squirrel actually fitted his whole body into the squirrel feeder I had mounted to one of the hardwoods. My daughter and I stayed in the house. We all made it together.

During the storm, a limb fell and landed between the squirrel feeder tree and one of the other hardwoods. That limb stayed more securely anchored by nature than any manmade structure could ever be. It was a permanent bridge for the squirrels, who would cross it to get to the feeder.

I would sit in the backyard and watch them. I also enjoyed the company of an unbelievable variety of bird species at their feeders and their birdbath/water source (feeders and water also shared with the squirrels).

Yesterday, when I dropped by the old neighborhood, the first thing I saw was a little sign popping up in front of the property. It was supposed to be an advertisement for a tree service company. It really is a confession by a tree killing company.

All the backyard trees are gone. I guess R*** B**** will be dealing with the hot AM sun by cranking up the AC and diving into a new inground pool.

In the version of Earth that has man-made lines of who owns what, R*** B**** is the owner of that acre.

Really enjoying the snow, because it’s more than pretty scenery.

Last night, I went online and found out that the big sledding hill in a park a half-hour from my house is still going strong after all these years.

So this morning, I look again for my childhood sled. Nowhere to be found. I call Target, and am told they have sledding stuff on clearance in Sporting Goods! I was happy they still had some, but on clearance after a snowstorm?

I ask my daughter if she wants to go to the big sleigh riding (what we always called sledding) hill from my childhood, and she does. While she gets ready, I waste no time shooting down to Target. I’m in Sporting Goods, looking near the bikes where the large merchandise is. I ask a team member, and he takes me to the right section. Guess what? “Sleds” come in boxes now. There are three different types of inflatable “sleds”.

I buy two different models (at half price!) and an electric air pump. Our inflated sleds just fit in the back seat.

When we get to the park, the parking lot is full, so they direct us to another lot. For some reason, I miss its entrance, and end up in a third parking lot. As we trek along, following a few people lugging various forms of sleds (none like my runner sled from my childhood), we wonder how far we are from the hill. When a ranger pulls up, he says we are heading to a place I never even knew about– the unsupervised snowboarding hill. He says it’s just as good as the main hill. My daughter likes the unsupervised aspect, and to be honest, so do I. I work well without supervision; ask any of the places to which I’ve applied for a job. And sleigh riding shouldn’t involve regimentation. Soon we pass a couple of guys on their way back who assure us that this hill is better than the other one.

Well, it is. Not crowded. The rides are faster compared to what I remember and what I see of the main hill on YouTube. They are also longer, which you only appreciate on the way down, although my HDL (good) cholesterol is peaking after all those walks back uphill.

We had a blast!

After this storm, I did what it takes to say that I REALLY enjoyed the snow.

Will post again when I am around technology long enough. Until then, I will leave you with my channeling of John Lennon:

Imagine there’s no power.

It’s easy if you try.

Power lines below us.

Phones about to die.

Imagine all the people

Unplugged for today.

You may say I’m medieval

But I’m not the only one.

I used to watch Breaking Amish

But today I live as one.

…we Jerseyites await Hurricane Sandy’s path as she heads toward her destination: over land, over sea, over the boardwalk, over the Shore Store, right to Snooki’s unmade bed from last season.

A comforting card from my sister had this quote from Dr. Seuss:

“Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.”

This is some of what happened:

  • Obviously, he loved cats.
  • A Labrador Retriever who retrieved only a little more often than he spent days in Labrador.
  • He got yummy treats and toys on July 24, 2004 after hearing Happy Birthday in English and Lang Sal Salava (sic as per our American pronunciation) in Dutch. After that association, he assumed those were his songs. So he got treats at everyone’s birthday party.
  • For some other Pavlovian reason, someone sneezing was interpreted as playtime. If you sneezed, a dog toy was on its way to you.
  • He loved trips to the dog park. It helped him remember he wasn’t a cat. Although his sexual orientation was neutered male, being humped by other dogs, many of them neutered males, was just part of the play. Whatever, said Mellow Grover. I accused him of being a star f***er when one of the local weather reporter’s two dogs did this. Although it was a warm, sunny winter’s day, the free, exclusive weather report she gave me in compensation—icy by Thursday—was right on.
  • He was so gentle. When one of the uninvited animals ran by him one winter, he caught the mouse in his mouth. When he let it go, it scampered away across the kitchen, unharmed.
  • Yes, he would kiss you to death. His kisses bordered on waterboarding. He loved everybody.
  • 9 years of unconditional love.

A lot to smile about.