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Amsterdam Stone Unearthed at the 11th Hour

Yesterday was a doozy.  A plenitude of variables all seemed to collide and culminate into a sunset hour meltdown by both myself and Jeb.

Maybe I’m feeling tighter as it’s been three weeks of solid parenthood without reprieve – Jeb’s dad is out-of-town.  It could also be the two fundraisers in my ‘spare’ time and the postering task I was assigned that spans two cities.  The extra work hours this month. No school for Jeb all next week.  And then thrown into the mix is the fact that I have no hot water at my house.

I’m going on day six since the nanny goat in heat tried to charge me and my hot water heater sprung a leak.

I haven’t wanted to mention the hot water thing, really.  Like somehow if I don’t make it a big deal then maybe it won’t be one.  But I’m growing tired of playing Little House on the Prairie, boiling water to do dishes.  We’ve been showering at a friend’s.

Today was supposed to be the day that all was repaired.  Instead, my closet/laundry/storage room was in disarray.  My baskets moved aside to make room for copper pipes.  Wet rags amassed in corners, too close to my boxes of photographs and journals.  The entire door unhinged, mosquitos buzzing about my hanging clothes, my underwear in view of the repair man.  Ugh!

These thing – relatively minor from a vast world perspective, but monumental in my limited little world of Jessica – these things tipped me over into meltdown city.  And Jeb came tumbling after.
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What Makes Us Remember?

Driving to school Monday morning with Jeb, six years old, going on seven:

“Mom, do you ever just forget that you’re on this planet?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like you just forget that you’re even alive.”

“Mmm…I think I might know what you mean.  Do you mean something like when you’re just going through your day and you are almost not realizing that you are a breathing human being that is alive on earth?

“Yeah, like that.”

“It’s like you’re almost just so used to everything that you forget.  Is that what you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, I forget that I’m alive on this planet sometimes.  What makes you ask this question?”

“Because I just had that experience.”

“Just now?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.  Well, I’m curious – what made you remember again.  Remember that you were here and alive?”

“I don’t know.”

photo by Jessica Dofflemyer
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Costco, Hoarding & the Infinite Source of Love Stories

That last entry, “The Private Door Swings Open“, found its way to the Archives because for the first time in these 40+ days of blogging, I felt like I had nothing to share.

Reflecting on my Sunday, there was no way I could bore you with the details of my wearisome (and non-sustainable) tour of “big box” stores.  All I could think to write was how I spent more money than I had on things that I needed.   Like socks for Jeb at Kmart, toilet paper at Home Depot and olive oil at Costco.

Profound in the mundane?  It seemed profundity could not penetrate a mundane of such proportion.  My ‘everyday’ inspiration hit a big, bonus-size, writer’s block right around the Costco member counter.

At the beginning of this year I took a writing workshop with Kim Stafford, where he assured us that the creative well is an infinite source.  You don’t have to worry about running out.  No hoarding necessary.  Share your work and let it flow, trusting that more will follow.

During the workshop I wrote “The Private Door Swings Open” and I’ve been stashing it ever since.  Go figure.

So yesterday when the muse offered nothing but a Home Depot receipt for cockroach traps, I suddenly felt compelled to share the “Private” piece.  It seemed fitting in that the story took place just about year ago and  I will soon be returning to Big Sur (though not to see the rocket scientist).

art by Jessica Dofflemyer

That time in the cabin was an oasis in the desert.  From it came watercolor paintings and love poems.  It inspired a long-distance love affair that spanned continents.

I share it here because I think it’s a great story…and it’s time for me to let it go.

No need to hoard it.  There’s an infinite well of epic life experiences yet to be had.

I’m sure I’ll tell you all about it…