The Last Smells of Summer, Type A Brain, and Finally Getting Home

Bare Feet in the Grass...Enjoying the last day of a California summer.

Bare Feet in the Grass...Enjoying the last day of another California summer.

Today I pushed my way through the double doors and walked out into the last day of summer.  Well, we don’t really have winter here but fall is already pushing its ugly nose in on us.  It’s making the days shorter and keeping the light from our windows as morning alarm clocks blare all over town.

I filled my lungs with the last sweet smells of the lavender bushes just outside the building where I find myself working today.  A jump-suited man with an angry sawing contraption has desecrated their massive planter.  Fifty or so bushes stood proud there not long ago, tall as toddlers, a shock of purple against the mundane sandstone.  Bees danced and buzzed and nipped at their nectar in parties of ten or twenty.  I imagined the conversations they would’ve had at their buffet, if bees were to have conversations, that is.  Were it not for the bees I might give in, I might jump face first into the purple and roll around in the majesty of all that greatness.  Then again, I might just edge back towards normalcy.

Now they sit there, tiny bobs trimmed down to nothing for the winter that is to come.  They are hibernating for the cold that will soon blow in and we, their subjects, mourn their absence.  We forget that they will be back and that we might once again enjoy their splendor.

On to less fanciful and more pressing matters…

It should be said that very little surprises me, I am too Type A to be surprised.  A Type A brain generally accounts for every possible outcome, in every possible scenario, at least five steps in advance.  We are excellent chess players.  Chess, I must learn to play chess.

Given my last blog, complete with the bemoaning of HMO bureaucracy, you might surmise that I have been pushing boulders uphill every since.  If so you were in good company, though you would be mistaken.  I certainly was.  I did not account for this, this scenario did not flicker through my brain as I was making calls and setting up appointments after my run in with the stubborn medical secretaries.

Access to my full records ended up being as simple as: calling the primary therapist on my case, making an appointment, and chatting in person about my reasons for needing the records and how life has been over the past few years.

Worries about this or that, thinking this was a lost cause, wondering if I should keep wasting my time running in circles…all of this turned out to be an epic waste of time.  Why do we sometimes feel the need to make things more complicated than they have to be?

At some point I will blog about this exceedingly positive experience and the peculiarity of that day.  The beginning of that Friday and the end were oddly connected and yet sharp in contrast to one another.  Everything ended up backwards by the time all was said and done.  So it goes.

There it is, the blog I started on the last day of summer and that I have been meaning to finish for so long.  September was a traveling month, traipsing up and down the length of California for too many things and reasons to mention.  September was: 1,437 miles, that’s 22 hours and 44 minutes of sitting behind the wheel, approximately 7 tanks of gas from as far north as Tahoe and as far south as Los Angeles, 8 old cassette tapes, 20 CDs made just for this month, a loaded MP3 player and three different cars, two of which were mine and needed full servicing and registration before the trips.  No partridge.  No pear tree.

Every year there is just not enough time for September.  For all the things that happen and gear up and do their yearly renewal dance, 720 hours is just not enough.  That said, it was a great one.  It always is.

-Snarky Lark

Next: Workshop and LitQuake X (unrelated but both gnawing at my brain)

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