Farewell Lil BUB: In Loving Memory of the Most Amazing Cat On the Planet

Caregivers and the ultimate gift - time

I get tired.

I get tired of always cheering, always holding my tongue or using it to encourage, praise or simply so that I can listen. I cook and clean and use so much of my time to entertain and inspire (inspiring takes work) and just trying to get her to eat like a normal person. The sobriety is heaven but there is still so much to be done in a life that has been tattered by alcoholism. She's just learning how to live a normal life. And I'm holding her up while she does. It takes time, a lot of time that could be mine. Time that I give away. Not just with these things but with the exhaustion that is a given and the time to recover.

And as I've said before, I'm not a caregiver in the traditional sense, but my life is wound up with hers in a way that can't be unraveled right now. I give it, time, because I want to give it, need to give it, can't seem to stop giving it. Am I codependent (I hate that word) or am I just being responsible? Responsible to the duty of motherhood - my guilt - my love. She's alone in the world, except for me. So how do I recover enough to grab time for me? I want to make art and I'm tired. I'm tired in my soul.

And she's not a victim. She struggles and succeeds and struggles some more and needs help. And gives compassion and is not blind to the effort I make, what I give up. And it takes time, a lot of time to recover. And so much has been lost, so much of her precious time.

I've been reading a book titled - Women's Work. It's written by Megan K. Stack. She was a war correspondent for the Los Angeles Times and was up for a Pulitzer prize in international reporting.  She has written a book about her experience of motherhood, balancing her life as a writer with the all consuming tasks of caring for her home and husband and son in Beijing and Delhi.

The subject of the book is her conflict in seeking, hiring, and accepting help while trying to respect and understand the lives of the women who help her. She can't do it alone. Postpartum and the need to find the time and energy to finish the book she has been writing for two years, coupled with the guilt of letting someone else do the work she thinks she should be doing, which allows her the privilege of writing, weigh on her every day.  It's hard for her to accept it when she knows that the women who give it are probably leaving their own children and giving their precious time to care for her child. And there's a little bit of a feeling of failure in needing their help.

Time is capital. And sometimes I feel like I'm spending mine and I'm not replenishing it. Spending and not replenishing carries a level of fear and that fear invades the time that I try to steal for myself, for my art. It makes recovering it feel wasteful. I love the metaphor of a teeter-totte. Some times we get crashed to the ground and sometimes thrown into the air. Balancing carefully is the only safe way to get on and off.

"How many ideas, how many discoveries, how much art lost because the woman spent her time elsewhere? How many ideas stillborn, how many inventions undone, how much original thought passed off?" Says, Stark.

If I sound like I'm complaining, I don't care. It's just reality, my reality.

She has a good, good friend who has been trying to do things with her. Trying to get her out of the house and the small world that she has so far built. I'm very grateful for him. But here's the irony - when they are gone and I am alone, when I could fill in the black holes that dot my life, I don't. I pulled out some shells today and set them on the work table so that in the morning I have to awkwardly lean over them to open the curtains. Tomorrow, tomorrow I'll take the time.

Thank you to Elizabeth over at:  http://elizabethaquino.blogspot.com/
for helping me to not feel so guilty for taking time to help myself.

And to Ellen over at: https://ellenshead.blogspot.com/
for inspiring me with your dedication to your own work.

Love
Liv

Can't tell goats milk from cows milk

I went on vacation. Yes, me! I haven't had a real vacation in probably 30 years and it was stress relieving and fun, fun, fun. My darling friend Nina arranged and paid for everything. And was the best companion ever. We get along like bread and butter (she's the butter, she eats keto). I only had to buy my food and good food it was, flavor enhanced by many cocktails. We went to Bend, Oregon for 4 days and stayed at the most beautiful airbnb. We had a house and an amazing view all to ourselves. The owners have a beautiful house a small distance away, but we never saw them, except to be greeted by the husband (a sweetheart) and lavished with kisses and tennis balls from their 2 very friendly dogs. We both love dogs so that was an added bonus.

I've never been to Bend. It's high desert so lots of Juniper trees and tumble weed and sage. I now love that environment. Bend is a small town, but very hip (we're not) but it was fun to walk and eat and drink and we did plenty of all three. Nina is incredible. She is a GPS genius. I probably couldn't have even gotten us there, but she navigated all over foreign terrain, finding us fun little places to go, one of which was a hands on dairy farm run by a young couple with 11 children, 6 of whom have been adopted from Uganda. Beautiful kids and great cow milkers, swift and smooth and confident. We herded chickens, yes, sometimes chickens need herding and Nina milked a cow while I milked a goat...poor little goat. We had a blind test drinking cow/goat milk and little miss know-it-all, bragging about how she could easily tell one from the other (I use a lot of goat milk products), of course, picked them ass-backwards. I want to live on a farm now...no I don't, they milk at 7am and 7pm, sun-snow-rain and ice. I don't book appointments until after 11am because I get a stomach ache if I have to get up before 8am. And obviously it takes me two hours to get ready to do anything.

Letting go of stress to such a degree that my shoulders and neck finally freed up after years of tight tension was a huge relief. Of course it was back in about 2 days after getting home but that respite was wonderful and made me feel that I am still capable of "letting go", in more ways than one. Hope for the future.

The third surgery is scheduled for Sept. 9th. It will all finally be over with and I can get back to trying to live life in a normal fashion, like normal people do, of whom I know none. I'm not looking forward to the pain, obviously, but putting a chapter of my life behind me, that has consumed everything since last January, will feel so good. That's all I'm really focused on. 

After I spent two whole weeks trying to create a website on my own "it's so easy, you can do it, I did my own" I finally gave up and had to say that I am not as smart as all the people who - did it on their own - and am hiring a nice young Russian guy who touts "lots of experience" and charges a reasonable price to do it all for me. I found him on this site called Upworks. It locates tech's all over the country so you can find one near you and they have been vetted so I don't feel like I am getting a wannabe webmaster off of Craigslist. I'm probably not going to be able to do much with it until after the operation because I think I need to rephotograph a lot of my pieces and show them with some contrast so people get a better idea of how large they are. Photographing is not easy. So much setting up and arranging and carrying of heavy stuff so I will have to do it before my arms are out of commission.

I've been lamenting lately, like a big first world baby, that I live in a rented house and don't get to putter-decorate like I used to. It's a stress reliever for me and keeps the boredom at bay. I could always flip a room around and change things up because I had a ton of storage and a work shop that allowed me to hold onto more furniture than I needed and gave me the ability to repair/rebuild/reupholster, all of which I love to do. But living here without space for all of that often leaves me bored and anxious. I feel like I need to change things once in awhile in order to breathe better. I think most people are happy to find an arrangement and become settled with it but I'm not like that. My environment needs to float and I love the feeling of it always evolving. So I am ecstatic with my new find! I've been getting back to my Goodwill haunting and came across this Chinese red lacquered chest the other day which has found a new happy home in front of my couch.

                                                                                 

The knobs make me so happy. I'm sure they say something in Chinese but I will probably never know. It's not exactly the "double happiness" symbol but similar. The two center circles are working brass locks (sans keys - pout) but the drawers are huge for lots of storage. (I now see my carpet is totally off center. How did I do that?) The coup is that it cost $14.99. I had a credit for $8.99 because I bought a pair of pants that didn't fit - why don't I try things on first? AND it was senior day, yea, discount! So it wound up costing me $4.49!!!! Now that's some shoppin!

So anyway, I'm feeling pretty good right now. 94 days sober for my little darling daughter, a vacation and Summer doesn't feel like it is scittering by as fast as it usually does. The problems are quietly resting somewhere, I don't want to go looking for them, so hopefully they will stay that way for awhile. All I need to do now is find a good book.

                                                                             

   

Thinking of you.
Love
Liv

An update from the caregiver

I'm just checking in so that if anyone is out there and still remembers me, I will feel less invisible. That's the way caregivers feel sometimes. I am considering myself to be one these days. Not to be disrespectful to those who truly are and are astonishing in their fortitude and integrity. This is a different kind of caregiving.

My Thai roommate, I blogged about her last year, has moved on to her world travels. She's seen 30 countries and is doing 10 in this trip (why she  left) and is determined to do a total of 100. I didn't even know there were 100.... Google now tells me there are 195, I live such a shallow life.
Anyway, we had our ups and downs and even though she was 49, I wound up being her surrogate mom/sister/auntie/granny, I was the single shoulder in her life that she could count on and lean on. It was taxing. But I learned a lot about being a giver and not getting hung up in reciprocation, knowledge put to good use - if I want to stay sane.

Then there was the Idaho transplant. A very nice guy (I do not discriminate), 6"3"! who came here to find a job and leave the confines of Boise. I guess if you live there it seems like a small town. He was only here for two months because it is very hard to find a job around here unless you are looking in the tech industry. He was not. So in the end it turned out that he really just spent all his time locked in his room with his girlfriend - not necessarily a bad thing. However any time that she was gone, he was by my side looking for guidance and inspiration, I guess. He couldn't really cook, he brought a 20# bag of pinto beans with him.... so I helped him a bit with that. He was only 33 - it's understandable, sort of. Right? (eye roll) But both roommies took a lot of energy and patience, patience, patience.

Now he has gone back to Boise to his more reliable old job and the girlfriend is probably still sobbing. She was so sweet, really, but only 21 to his 33. They have a long way to go.

The next step, if I don't fall off the cliff, is that my beautiful daughter is moving back in. Since the suicide attempt, you'd have to go back a little ways to read that one, she has not been coping well. The adjustment to "normal" life has been extremely difficult for her. Lots and lots of anxiety and catastrophic thinking. The drinking is back, albeit in a much more controlled way and she is trying very hard with two days sober to one drinking, that seems to be the pattern now. But even though in the face of this stuff, I can tell you that the medication is still working - as much as possible. I have spent the last 11 months being her sole (soul) support and believe me, I adore her but my shoulders ache from the weight. And yes, I am very nervous. Financially this is the only solution for a lot of reasons - no need to go there. But can this be done? Will it be ok? Yet I walk on, go forward. Even if I get pulled back, I go forward.

So I feel like a caregiver, of a sort, and am acutely aware of what an invisible and unacknowledged job that can be. My heart gets ripped think of those who never have a break. At least in my life they go to work each day, thank God.

On the cancer front, well, it's just the boob front now (I hate that word) I am doing ok. I've had this saline implant in for about 2 months - my God! - and I have opted for another month before the operation to put the real implant in and reduce the other side, as an operation of that magnitude would obviously just be too much right now. The next surgery will be around the first week of May. May is my birthday month. I am turning 69, although I will not be using that number, so I will, out of necessity, have to stay 68 for the next year.

We've had a lot of sun and the camellia bush is blossoming heavenly pink, peony like flowers. I've grabbed as much quiet time in between the demands of these three that I possibly could and I've been able to spend some quality time with my friend, Nina. But I'm gaining weight. I've discovered Trader Joe's intense chocolate ice cream and I should be ashamed at the quantity I have consumed in the last two month. That will stop right here and now....I've run out.

So, will I be ok? Will it be ok? All of it? Any of it? -- Maybe.
But right here, right now, I am ok.

I'm only putting this in because it is stunningly beautiful. And I hope my breasts look that good when this is done.....ha!
                                                                              

                                                                                                     Irving Pen

And then there's this.                                            

I did some work-art-work ----- and a reveal

Hello friends  and lovers.

Thank you all for your kind and loving comments. I'm doing much, much better. The first surgery is done and now the temporary implant is in. It's just called an expander and is slowly filled with saline in order for the remaining skin to stretch. I'm going to show a picture of the initial operation at the bottom of this post, so consider yourself forewarned. If you are squeamish then look away before you get to the last photo. I will eliminate it in a couple of days because, well, it's a bit icky. But I think it is a good thing for people to see what actually happens to a woman when she is faced with a mastectomy. That's such a vague word, it really doesn't convey the impact. It's a medical term that distances. I think perhaps we should just say amputation. Now that I know what happens, I am shocked that there isn't more empathy and real understanding of this process. It is a complicated surgery involving 2 surgeons and months of healing. My heart goes out to all the women who go through this with little support or understanding. I've had great support, I'm a lucky one, from my daughter, my dear friend and my sister - which I desperately needed when I got home. You can not even lift yourself up from the bed to get to the loo.

Anyway, now there will be a second surgery in about mid March to reconstruct the amputated breast (yes, I'm going for an implant) and to redesign the other in order to give balance, otherwise I would be listing to the left for the rest of my life. Because this one will, obviously, involve both sides, the recovery time will be longer so I don't expect to be back to my regular slightly annoying self until mid April. I have become a very quiet and lazy person these last few weeks. I think it's due to the anesthesia and it's impact on the brain. And, fuck it all, I didn't lose one single pound!!


So now I'm going to show you two decoupaged Retablos that I did just before this all happened. Pretty damn sure I haven't done that yet, but things are still a bit foggy. They both represent strength and courage of women to look above and beyond the immediate and to compassionately guide humanity. But I don't hold fast and tight to any interpretation, even my own. So feel free to find your own.

                                                                               

                                                                                  

                                                                                 

                                                                                

This second on is done on a background of pages from a book called "The Life's of Women". I love that part of it. Something hidden that is only revealed on close inspection. There are lots of them in both pieces.




So now............................................................................the reveal.


                                                                               

You'd think I would be shy about this whole thing, but I'm not. It's just a body. We all have them. This is about a week after the surgery so the bruises are just about gone. The temporary implant is in and that is the bulge at the top and believe me, that sucker hurts. It feels like it has a metal rim that is pressing against your ribs, but it's only a soft plastic pouch. I have the good old phantom pain, it comes from a nerve that was cut and it keeps screaming "what the fuck!" all day, everyday. My plastic surgeon assures me that the big scar will go away after the next operation and there will eventually only be a faint white line. I don't really care. All I want is something that will make a shirt look normal, and no, I won't be showing the final product! I do have a limit.


Again, thank you all for your kind and caring words, you make my life so much richer.

Love
Liv

The River of Time

It is a river, isn't it? Floating along or caught in a snare. Metaphors on that one are endless.

I took some time off in March because of my illness. Sometimes blogging has been stressful to me. It proves that I am often times hard to understand. No need to expound on that, save to say that that is hard to carry. So being away was what was best for my health and peace of mind. And it helped. I recovered more quickly than I thought I could. Thank the powers for that, because what was waiting down the line was shattering.

On May 2nd my darling, beautiful, oh-so-smart, daughter made a very serious attempt to take her life. 60 blood pressure pills and at the last few minutes she thought of her good old mom and was able, in those short minutes, to dial 911. (Sidebar here folks, keep it on your speed dial, you just never know.) I have no way to adequately explain to you what it is like to read a 5 page suicide note. To hear suffering of that depth, which is easy to express in what one thinks are their last hours on earth, felt surreal. There is no holding back. It was so deep, so far down that hole, that I knew I was not going to be able to comfort her enough. I knew that no matter how long my arms were, they could not reach her. All that I could do was to show her that they were reaching down, knowing that she would have to do the rest. There was absolute numbness along with piercing sorrow for her.

I spent 6 days and nights with her in ICU watching her every reaction and every machine hooked to her. There was no brain or nerve damage, but they discovered that she has congenital heart disease.  There is no way to tell if it was the affect of the pills that damaged her heart or if it has been lingering there all along, which would make it even more miraculous that she survived.

There was a stint in the mental health ward at Kaiser and then straight to Rehab. Three trips to emergency, lock down and a lot of heart crushing screaming. Then another stint in the mental health ward.  To say she has been through hell...you would not want to see this kind of hell. What we've both learned over long, hard years is that our country does not have adequate training to really help alcoholics except to say, "will yourself not to drink and say your affirmations". AA just doesn't work for a lot of people, actually for the majority of people. If it did,  addiction in all it's guises would not be savaging our country.  So saying this was her third go at it can't even get close to how devastating and frustrating it is. Try, try and try again. What that insures is that suffering is going to be a constant road without a map. Some of the people going through this with her have been through it 9/10 times, one even 16. It's mind blowing. She finally got the help she needed from a 10 page letter to Kaiser assessing their program and telling them what she actually needed from them and how to really help her. Things changed immediately (this girl is gifted, she would make a phenomenal lawyer!). They brought in a psychiatrist just out of Boston University who literally saved her life. Kaiser does NOT want to be sued. Success can be possible, IF the knowledge of this young and brilliant man, and others, is respected and shared. He would not give up, just try to imagine how very rare that is.

Addiction is not a disease, it is not the result of weak character or a self indulgent nature. It is brain damage. I could expound on that, but not now.

She has now had 6 months of fairly effortless sobriety. I say effortless, because she isn't going mad with cravings, but it's still there...the desire, only now, controllable. Brain damage can only be treated with medication. We can't will brain damage away.  No amount of affirmations is going to heal the brain. Finding the right combination of medication is what her psychiatrist was committed to doing and he got it. There has been a bit of tweeking, but she's doing great and will start back to work in the next couple of weeks. Unaltered. How incredible is that? She is her same sassy, silly and brilliant self and I, well, I am a mom taking a long, relieving breath and getting back to work, too - with eyes wide open, ever vigilant. There are no cures, no miracles but there is hope.

Love, Liv

The best of ordinary days

                                                                               

                            'Woman Waiting for the Moon to Rise' by Shoen Uemura (1944)

Actually, there are no ordinary days. Every day is extraordinary. I am glad for each one that I encounter when I wake, whether gray or sunny it really doesn't matter to me. I get another chance and that is all that matters.

Today

My roommate brought home a begonia with the palest peach blossoms.

My daughter sent me a sweet letter heavy with her golden heart.

I listened to the downstairs tenant tell me all about the new exercise pants that he got on line and he was smiling and happy because I listened with genuine interest.

My sister called with some sad news and we shared a moment of tenderness that we don't always get to experience.

I brought home Paul Newman's pizza and shared it with my roommate and she actually liked it. It was so good to see her enjoy something American.

I was sick last night, but it's gone today.

Yesterday I built a planter for the strawberries that I will plant on the deck and admired it's perfect imperfection  each time I walked past the window.


An ordinary life, in an ordinary, extraordinary day.

I'm in Thailand

                                                                                  

Ha! There is a a lot I don't need to know! Perhaps I should stay away from Bangkok.

Obviously I am not there. If I was, I would be sitting on warm sand at the edge of the ocean and not writing this. I would be sending you gorgeous pictures of beaches and lusty food.

My roommate is Thai. A culture that I've never known anything about. Lovely people, lovely land.
We get along pretty well. She is nice and and I am learning to eat and cook Thai foods. I like most of the food, but dessert's, no no no! (crisco and sugar !) And I've learned to say: Sa wad dee ka, hello and goodbye. Sa bai dee mai ka, how are you and Kab koon ka, thank you. Ka is how you end a sentence if you are female.... Men don't have an ending.

It is difficult living with strangers all the time, especially when you know they are transient. She is young and as a lot of young people are, she must be right all the time. I mean all the time. I think that might just be a personality thing. She and her uncle own several restaurants here so there is a lot of security about money and she is a world wide traveler. No exag. I think she said she has been to 30 countries and is going to Hawaii in the next two weeks (she's been there twice) and will go to Argentina this summer. It is a little tough for me because essentially she also thinks there is nothing good about America, except for, shopping, traffic (Thailand doesn't have the infrastructure that we do), the fact that people let you go in front of them in the grocery store if you only have a couple of things, and the pastries. Seriously, that's about all. She thinks American food is bland and disgusting, although she loves McDonalds and eats there at least twice a week. Go figure! I wanted to say that perhaps she could also like the fact that we let her in and she earns more money here than she probably could in any other part of the world. But I didn't. I let her be right and I don't challenge her negative views. Because I need her to stay here !  Even though I have given her the master suite, and for $200 less than I pay for my 10 x 10 foot room, it is still $$ and it helps to pay the rent, good enough. And in spite of everything, I do like her and enjoy her company and we laugh a lot, she has a very sweet side - when she isn't criticising, it's just a winding road to keep things smooth.

There have been some sad goings on with a sort of distant member of the family. Alcoholic families are very complicated. It's hard to extract yourself from that, especially when you love the other person who is suffering. This is a particularly sweet and good hearted young man, so kind, so endearing and he just cannot make healthy decisions, for a lot of sad reasons. My heart is breaking for him and there is pretty much nothing I can do, except tell him I am here, if and when he can ever accept love and help. He really is the jewel of the family. And no matter what, he remains so.

It's made me think about the concept of opportunities and how we see them in regards to those who have them and those who don't. Everyone has opportunities, "New Age" cheering tells me that. I see  it, but I do not always believe it. I also see something else that I do believe. People who have opportunities and have seized them, often times do not understand those who have very little, or none. It doesn't happen so much in America, we are the "Land of Opportunities". But the world is full of those without a chance, or very little. It makes me very upset when people say that those suffering during the Holocaust had choices. Some did, of course, but there were others........

 I'm thinking of war zones, in particular, Syria comes to mind. Where are all the choices there? I can think of a few examples to illustrate what I mean but it's all so heartbreaking.
 
I hope this darling young man see's the opportunities that are being extended toward him. But he is very broken. It is possible that he is so far down that he can not see them. And it is possible that he may never. I just love him, that's all I really know.

 In regards to my thinking about choices and opp's, it's complicated, I am complicated, so is America.  Like Marco  say's, I'm just talking to the trees.

Other than that, I am doing just fine. We've had a ton of sun here.
Lord what would we do without sun?

Cheap canvas. I love cheap canvas

                                                                                  
                                                                             

r.h.sin is a feminist poet and writer. You can find his work on Instagram.

 

“The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence. I knew perfectly well the cars were making a noise, and the people in them and behind the lit windows of the buildings were making a noise, and the river was making a noise, but I couldn’t hear a thing. The city hung in my window, flat as a poster, glittering and blinking, but it might just as well not have been there at all, for the good it did me.”

The Bell Jar

I thought I would post two of them to, well, because I just did.

I haven't posted for awhile because I am just "tired", the nomenclature for depressed.  I'm actually not usually this way. My medication keeps that in bay a bit. But lately I've been just as Plath puts it. There is a silence. Life is in slow motion. Neither blogger nor facebook seem like appropriate places to reveal. Every one seems to be coping and more. And it's nice to look through the window and watch. I feel kind of proud that I have such as you - that I've chosen you. It must mean that in a lot of ways I am just like you, coping and sometimes more. So why do I get so tired?

I have things to talk about so I'm pissed that it's getting in my way.  Get the fuck out! You're in my way!

I'm eating way too much. A healthy meal, a shit meal. I'm actually not a drinker at all. But I've been having a glass of wine about every 2/3 days. God, why do people drink wine? Unless you can buy the best, it's just shit sour pop. I mock it.  - Good God, you're worthless. You're a pretty color but you do not bring the advertised freedom that you subtlety suggest in your ad, you're a tease. -  So it sits in the cupboard until it is vinegar. If I am eating pasta, or maybe pizza, or, ahh...eggplant, I think, well aren't you supposed to drink wine with this? But the plate is empty, the glass is half full and what was on the plate seems to have done what the crimson liquid was supposed to do. See, you're useless and you cost me $6.

I'm am painting and enjoying it. But that's all I want to do. Just stand at the table and play with color and water on cheap canvas. It's practice though, so cheap canvas is a brilliant invention, those little cardboard things with the canvas glued on. I love them.

I think my roommate may be adding to the depression. She is a type A. And pretty much wears it like a badge. But she is only a part, I can't seem to nail the others. I have a wonderful new therapist. Got lucky on that one. She asked me a question the other day and I said, "Come on, that is a woowoo question and we are both better than that." We both had a lovely belly laugh and I am proud of her that she got it right away. She's almost as smart as me - I have had more than my fair share, of - consultants..haha - so it is great that she can keep up and give me one better, a lot.

I wish I could write more poetically about this state of being. Like Plath. But then if I could, I might be in big trouble. I wish someone could have saved her.

If there is anyone still out there and you feel like commenting, please do. But don't give me any woowoo. You know I am laughing. Depressed people do laugh, a lot in fact.

I could NOT resist this!!!!!

Never a dull moment

I'm taking a break from painting, I stand to draw and paint and my back gets really tired after a while.   Actually I've only done the under drawing. For me, it takes about 2 hrs to get an under drawing balanced.  (I've still not moved on to abstract yet) But it's turned out good and now I'm contemplating colors.

So I'm taking a break and sitting down and low and behold, here is the keyboard. I've picked the radiation story to tell. God, I am slow at posting.

After the lumpectomy and the ensuing lymph node surgery, which is actually much worse, they put a draining tube in your arm for fluid that might accumulate - it's really gross - but the worst part is that that tube has to stay in for about 5 days and it actually grows scar tissue around it in that short amount of time. They don't give you an anesthetic when they take rip it out of your arm. It hurts like Hell! I actually screamed. It was the worst part of the whole ordeal.
After all of that is over, then you get radiation, 6 weeks, 5 days a week. I don't really know why it takes so long, because my tumor was very small, but that's the way it was. I have never experienced much in the way of side effects.Actually, for me, radiation is not so bad. Well, except for the part where it kills a whole bunch of cells you don't really want to get rid of.  You get to park in a lot reserved for oncology patients. The lot has a machine at the entrance and you have to put your special code in so that all the podiatry patients don't park there. 3 to 4 out of 5 days, I couldn't get my code in. I just could not hit the right buttons, so I'd have to call the nurse on the little speaker thing and ask for help. They can do it from inside, but every time there is a big sigh on the other end of the line. My brain just doesn't work when I am under a lot of stress. I get really disoriented.

You go in and change and have to sit in the waiting room .... with no bra under your gown, and a lot of women bring their husbands, just a wee bit uncomfortable.  When your name is called, you go into a large room that has an enormous machine.
                                                                              

It feels a bit Star Treky.  You get tattooed so that they know exactly were the beam is going to hit. The lights go out except for the one that is in the machine. It swivels around so that the big round thing is on top of you and as it does it makes this quiet sound, very Star Treky again. But it's actually kind of soothing. At my hospital there is a big picture of the galaxy on the ceiling and a soft light that illuminates it. It's very warm in the room and the whole things feels rather like a cocoon. I felt very safe and relaxed in there.

Here is the interesting part. As soon as the light went out and the soft noise of the machine began, I would close my eyes and see a very clear vision of a couch floating over my head. At one end sat a little bare footed girl and at the other, a woman. She looked very calm and centered, for lack of a better word, and they both were wearing lovely dresses.  Each day I would completely forget that this was going to happen. I swear, every single day I would be surprised when the vision came up.You wouldn't think that was possible because it happened every day, but as I said, things become very disorienting as you weave your way through this process. Each day the woman would turn and smile at the little girl who was not having any of that. She wasn't mad or shy, she just didn't trust even the kind faced woman at the other end of the couch.  Day by day the woman would gently beckon the little girl to scoot over towards her. She would smile and nod her head that it was ok and sometimes she would reach across and tickle the girls feet. We had six weeks to go, so this was a long, drawn out process, but slowly, slowly the gap would get shorter. The little girl began to relax a bit at about the midway point, but she never let that guard go all the way down and she never gave up. Again, incredibly, I forgot every, every day that this was going to happen. But when it did there would be a fraction of a second of surprise and enjoyment as it popped up. I don't think the beam lasted more than 4 minutes, if even that, so the whole of this little play carried out in that short amount of time. But it didn't feel short.

I'm sure you can guess the outcome of this story, but here's the twist. On the very last day, predictably, the little girl made it to within a couple of inchs of the woman who was smiling with a smile that said "yes, we got it!". She reached down for her, the child didn't resist, but just as she got her in midair over her lap....bing. The whole thing was over. The machine was done for the last time and the lights came on. The image of her hovering just above the woman's lap is not troubling. Everything was so calm and the experience was like those hours when you are painting and you loose all awareness of your surroundings. What happened at the end, was just the way it happened.

I don't want to put too much into it and the whole "inner child" thing doesn't seem quite right to me. Been there, done that. It feels cliched. What I took away was that it's never over. Nothing is ever over. And nothing is easy. We are always a little thing working towards benevolence never quite knowing if we're safe or not, never really knowing if it's ok to surrender to the process. We get pretty close, we can even get damn close, but it is perfectly ok if we are near. Near is good and I am quite happy with that and very, very happy that benevolence never gives up on us.

So much to say...

I've been wanting to write one of those posts like I used to write. The ones where I ramble on about something that I know absolutely nothing about. But I can't choose.

1.  Leggings                                                            
2.  Oprah                                                                   
3.  Roommates                                                         .
4.  Women
5. Solitude                                                            
6.  Friendship                                                          
7.  Men in leggings                                                      
     (I can probably combine that with #1)
8.  God, I'm not smart enough for this one.
9.  Politics, ditto                                    
                                                            
  
                                                                                      
10.  Mystical experiences while under the radiation machine
11.  Where to begin life - and where to end it.
12.  Body shaming and Melania/Donald Trump
13. #Me too, sex, prostitution, provocativeness (and anything else you're not supposed to talk about because you're getting off track) - probably would have to be divided into 2 post's and would more than likely get me into trouble.
14. Volleyball uniforms for women and men --- oh yes, gymnastics too. (probably fit with #1)
 15. Modesty what the heck is that for?  (probably goes with #1, #7, #12, #13?, #14).
 
16.  People who are smarter than me and why I love them.
17. Korea/China and my obsession with them.
18. My day, hour by hour......god no.
                                                                                       
                                                                                  
                                                                                        
                                                                        
Writing about any one of these could probably wind up embarrassing the heck out of me. But on the other hand, I kind of really like being "wrong".  There is always so much opportunity for expanding your perceptions and growing in awareness, knowledge and humility.  Ohhh, that's a good one, humility. Consider that to be #19.

Which one?  Got any to add?
I am ready to rumble ramble.
                                                                                                                                                       

Begin as you mean to go on

What a year that was.  It was full of things that I hope to never revisit. And several that made it worthwhile.
                                                                          

 

Hedy says it well, tough roses.

I lost a couple of friendships, but I reconnected with one of the best I've ever had.

An operation on my face, and it worked out great.

 
A crazy roommate, and a great new one - makes up for it all.

My daughter left home, in a not so good way. But she's settled and happy so the first part doesn't count anymore. 

1/2 dozen things went wrong with the car. But most of them weren't very expensive (meaning - there was one whopper) but that dear old girl keeps going along. Sadly she's beginning to look her age but so am I. As long as she hangs in there for me, I'll do the same for her.

The rent got raised stupid high. But by the grace of my mother, her passing gift will get me through.

I had a painter's block (well actually, for the last 8 years...). But it broke just in time. That might have been the best one of all.  

And fuck, of course, there was the whole nightmare of trump. But I have not succumbed to panic and deadly depression. 
                                                                               

I'm approaching this one like Maud (Maud Wagner, pioneering first female tattooist, 1911), fresh roses, head held high and I'm going to do even more to be the me that I really am - brave.

I'm going to sell some of my art. I'm going to get out of the house more. I think I will have to do the latter to accomplish the former.
I'm going to learn enough Korean to be able to be gracious to the couple that own the Korean restaurant. And I'm going to eat there. 
I'm going to resist even harder, against the maniac with the button.
I'm going to create even more than painting. I have more tricks in my bag.
I'm going to fucking change my name!!
I'm going to try to let go of more of the anger and rampaging resentment towards my family...don't expect miracles.
And I'm going to do a lot more things, but I can't remember what they are right now, and several that I haven't even thought of yet.

Let this new one be filled with opportunity and revelation, comfort and clarity, accomplishments, fun and victory for all of us.

And love, lots and lots of love.

  

That very wonderful Christmas !

Happy Christmas and thank you for a year of friendships and the gift of your wonderful posts.

I am reposting my story from last year, as that Christmas of 1949 was a special year for me. You might not have read it then so I hope that you will enjoy it now. And for those of you who did read it last year, I thought you might enjoy reading it again.

My very best Christmas

This was my very best Christmas. In a big house on Main street in Tillamook, Oregon everything was beautiful and happy. My grandparent's house was warm and fragrant from the just cut tree and crowded with people who were glad to be there.  I'm sure my mother helped put the "rain" on the tree, she was meticulous and would have wanted to please her new mother in law. The lights were low in the kitchen except for the one over the Tom and Jerry bowl, a special one - children were not allowed but there was another one just for them with tiny cups to fit little hands, and lots of home made cookies and probably a ham. All my aunts and uncles were there. Christmas music would have been playing on the new mahogany cabinet that held the record player which had just replaced the wind up with the brass horn.  My parents were still happily married.

The carpeting in the house had muted roses on a grey background and the wall paper was a soft dove grey with a pattern of white feathers. The brocade drapes would have been drawn over the pale golden shades, the ivory pull dangling from a long string.  Soon my grandfather would have disappeared and my grandmother would say to the children, "What's that noise? I hear something on the roof.", we were sure we heard it too, then the doorbell would ring.  A wide eyed child would rush to open it, letting a burst of cold air in and stepping back in wonder because Santa was there. Little necks would strain looking up in awe and then down to the big, red bag. There were presents under the tree but the best ones were the ones given to waiting hands.

As Santa disappeared, my grandfather came back and began turning all the lights out, except the tree with the big bright bulbs that got too hot for little ones who always wanted to touch. In the too warm and cozy room 4 children would be oohing and ahhing and passing back and forth presents that were so different then.  The wrapping paper, thin and soft, would be strewn in excitement, a cloud enveloping children and baby dolls and wind up train engines. Parents, huddled together, would laugh with each other and watch carefully to see that nothing got left unwrapped, and children were sharing, as children did then. In the glow from the tree, newlyweds, they all were then, exchanged presents and tender smiles. The war had just ended and all my uncles were safely back home, a present for my grandparents.

There was love in that warm and softly lit room and there would be for several years to come.
                                                                          

It was 1949.  My pretty mother in her favorite dress, green with pink bows, my aunt, a late surprise to my grandparents - all my uncles grown and married - and my sister with her baby doll. My mother is carrying me, four months in, I would be born in May. There were more Christmases just like this, a few as sweet and loving and gentle and filled with tenderness. But this is the one I remember best, this was the one I loved.

Merry Christmas everyone.
Love, Liv

Honey and Salt

It's freezing in here. The furnace heats both this level and the downstairs tenant. I have control over the thermostat, but he has a pellet stove so he is warm. He doesn't need or want the heat on because he has to share half the bill no matter what. So I have resorted to those rolling radiator heaters - it's a big house. I have two and one that is kind of broken (bit of a fire hazard, but don't tell anyone). I actually need about 5 to keep the place warm. Everything is turned off at night, because I can't afford a huge bill either.      Salt

Chutima, roommate, is coming the first of January. Great New Year's day treat. She is very nice, happy,  but not too happy. Quiet, but not too quiet. I'm looking forward to learning some Thai from her and she is hoping to improve her English with me, although she is very good at it now. It will be nice for me to have someone in the house. Someone coming home and say hello. She is looking forward to the same as in Thailand her family is very close. The all live in their own apartments in a building that her uncle owns. So she is used to always having someone to watch out for her, someone to check on whether or not she got home safely and ask her how she is. She doesn't understand why American families are not more like this. It's just normal in Thailand, she says. She has been living alone in a studio apartment so I know she is glad to have someone to do that for her a little bit.                                                                                       Honey

Me? I'm having a bit of a hard time. I'm looking forward to having her here, but I'm also a little nervous that I am going to have to try so hard to not appear stressed or depressed or idle. These are things she's not used to and I can tell already that they would be disconcerting to her. Her life is not perfect, but she is a very level person - no ups and downs.  She is also very used to the heat and humidity of her home and keeps asking me what winter is going to be like. I try to gently let her know but I can tell she doesn't get it, so the heat is going to be a problem. I told her she has to get a little heater for her room too - we'll see how that works.    Salt

The past few days have been crazy bad. It's not so much Christmas it's self - Liz and I have a great time together - lovely dinner, presents, laughs. It's the knowing, more than usual, that it's just the two of us. It's not that either one of us misses the family, they can't stand each other anyway and rarely see each other except for the artificially, strained cheer that they all must endure for one day. It's just the difference-ness of it all. We don't want to be different. When I look at the recent blog posts and Facebook posts, I get a feeling of emptiness. I feel flat. I don't necessarily want to cry, but it's like that kid looking into the shop window and wishing. There's a present at home and it's good to have a present, but it never turns out to be what's in the shop window.    Salt

I've also been having a very hard time with the fact that my sister just bought a house not very far from here. It's nice, she paid cash, she brought me pictures, she is very happy. She wants me to come over and help her decorate. But she doesn't grasp how very, very difficult that would be for me - nor understand that I won't be coming.  There is a Chinese saying that if you want life to go easy on you, you must accept defeat. I think there is some wisdom in that. They are never going to help me find a way to have a home that I don't have to feel can be taken from me at any moment or to not worry about the "future". We're getting old and we know there will be "taking care" and that it could be, will be, more expensive than any of us thought, especially with the crazy direction we are headed in. But somehow saying that I have been defeated makes me feel lighter. So what if you didn't win the battle, you fought a good fight, it's something to be proud of. You no longer need to be a warrior. Fighting is not necessary. You can rest now.  There is still life left to be lived.         Honey and Salt

I'll be glad to see this year end. It has been a tough one. Well, more than one. I got sick last July, not this one, the one before - there was an ambulance involved. Then it got so bad that by March I had to have an operation on my sinuses and my nose. Then the diagnosis of breast cancer and another operation and then another, there is a secondary op. to check lymph nodes, then treatment. (the money, the bills...omg) And just as I got the diagnosis, that blog thing of loosing a friend because she thought that I had done something I had not - no chance of healing there.  So PTSD was raging at that point on so many levels. It took leaving here for 5 months just to get my feet back under me. I don't really know how I did it. I'm still not sure where I am and I am sure as hell not steady on them yet.  But I am pretty glad that I am back here. It feels good to be heard, to be a part of something.                                                                                         Salt and a little Honey

This next year is going to be better. I don't think I can survive another like this one. I have felt some pretty darn good love from a couple of people recently. And I don't have any fear that it won't continue. I'm doing more art, as you know, and I have a good feeling that some of it will get sold this coming year. I think I'm about cried out, so that frees up a lot of time. I think there might be a cat in my future, I need to take care of something besides my self. And it's nice for me to have someone to come home to, although they are fairly indifferent when you do. Still....
                                                                                              Honey

But right now it's hard. It's damn hard. I feel flat even as I'm writing. Tired.    Bitter Salt

The tree is up. It was my grandma's. Purchased in 1963, she wrote it on the box. There is one of those colored wheels to go with it, but....no. The adorable tree is funky enough. She actually got a full sized pink one a few years after this one. I remember everyone coming in and laughing at it. I can just imagine how she must have felt. I adored it. It really spoke to the princess in me. I remember she put her arm around my shoulder.                                          

I put up the little village that my mom always made (hers was way better than mine). How cute is that?  Here's to you mom.  Notice that Mary is a whole lot bigger than Joseph.....  The green is from my daughter's fish tank. I think it really dresses up the whole thing. Makes it look real. It is real.

                                                                                                          Honey

Put your hat on and hold on to it!

I think I found a roommate !!!!  I'm about 92 % sure, just one more step for her to go through.

Her name is Chutima, she is Thai and lovely. We have so much in common, all of the good stuff, and she is pretty light hearted, but still aware of what it takes to be a human. She has traveled to 31 countries..omg. And is learning Spanish so that she and a friend can go to South America next year. So that means a good 6 months.

I'll write more later. I have to go cook a side dish to go with a Korean meal my friend is cooking tonight and I have no idea what that will be. And whatever it is, I will have to make a trip to the store for sushi rice, at least.

Oh yeah, she is hooked on Korean movies just like me - that was a great laugh, we knew right then it was going to work!

God bless the Koreans, north and south and keep these beautiful people safe.

Just for you

                                                                               

               Mornin'. I find that I cut my hair shorter and shorter each year. Can you see how short there by my ear?  I secretly want to shave my head but I have so many lumps and bumps that it would not look chic at all like some people do, probably just scary.

                   Goin' out to lunch with MJ, makeup is a miracle. Tied it back in the tiniest ponytail ever. I'm a grown woman and I still call it a "ponytail", silly. But what else could you call it?


I don't know why my selfie's always come out a bit out of focus. I have to take my glasses off so it actually looks like this to me on the camera...out of focus. But I do exactly the same thing with the camera when I take a picture of one of the shell things close up and then they are in focus. ??? **    I have a big red dot on my forehead my bags seem to have disappeared....again, makeup! Thank you camera gods. I think part of my arm is in focus. I have the blinds closed to stop that blast of sun. I moved the computer because before it was right next to that window and I was freeeezing watching a movie at night. It's a bit better on the far end of the room. This room doesn't have heat, only because the heat vent is in the little alcove below that window and it hangs out in mid air with nothing underneath it so all the heat is lost in minutes. A real architectural bloop. I have a little heater by my feet that works really well and so far I have paid enough attention to it to keep myself from catching on fire.

I want you to know that I do survive all this shit with, most of the time, a smile on my face. Because really, what can you do? Cancer, money, no roommate - it's life. There is a part of my brain that thinks hardships are pretty much a way to get inside. To the place in the center where I really have to unclench. That's were my breath goes. It's the place where fear grabs so hard, like a fist, that I can't get the breath in. People always say - breathe, breathe, you will feel better. Even though it's true, it's exhausting to hear it sometimes. - sometimes it's just fuck, fuck, fuck - My grip isn't easy to break, but if I don't let go I know it will squeeze the life right out of me . I'm often outside of that center and it can take me awhile to even remember that it's even there. So I'm giving it to the other and putting my energy into believing that someone else will come into this house who knows that idea. Kind of balance the seesaw. For me and probably for them, babes on a seesaw, we all are.  PS here; I always hold my neck and shoulder muscles so tight when I am stressed that my head shakes and my neck aches, aches! Now that! is really hard to unclench.


I'm listening to Charlie Brown Christmas music in the sunshine and looking for a cookie recipe. Baking is a go to for joy and calm for me and Charlie, well, who can not feel good with Charlie Brown?  It is very cold here - I love a winter kitchen with the oven on - and the water in the bird bath froze last night, but the sun melted it pretty fast. The chickadees are going hard at the bird feed.

Politics and worldwide insanity are out in the cold today where they can stay for awhile. Boy, those things can really put a grip on that center!  I'm not going to think of calling out men, or women in stupid just-as-good-as naked outfits or tights that are inappropriate and not just for comfort. Give me a break...I have a whole lot to say about that one! I'm thinking about sugar and flour and butter! And walnuts and maybe morello cherries or toffee.....ahhhhh!

** Ah ha!  It's because I'm trying to take the pic. with one hand...so I can't hold the camera still. I hope it's a good day for you, no clenching.

Another day, another glass of wine

                                                                                   

Only the wine bottle is appropriate - I am so far from ever being sexy any more - not that I ever was.

Still looking for a roommate. Several very inappropriate ones have responded to the ad. It's on Craigslist - well, it was. I've had to delete and go with three other places as CL seems to only bring in people who really can't afford to live here nor read the ad. They ask all the questions that have been previously noted in the ad and asking for exception after exception even though I've explained that the landlord is firm, I have no power to make exceptions. I've also gotten two lovely scams from Nigeria. Doesn't anyone there do anything else but sit in front of a computer saying "Let's see how really ridiculous we can make this one, because you know we're going to catch a fish or two anyway." ? Well, not me buddy. I'm going to figure it out right after I reply and the bell goes off in my empty and over anxious brain.

I did however get some $ help from a relative. So a bit of a surprise there. It helped pay for one month of this ridiculous rent increase, the electric bill and some groceries. (You probably don't know this, as I didn't, but Oregon has no cap on the amount of rent that can be raised by a landlord. And this is supposed to be such a socially advanced state.)  Grateful I am. Very grateful!

Some good news: My downstairs neighbor has turned out to be an absolute doll. He is very kind and positive and always makes me feel that I am being watched out for. A big plus when it comes from someone you don't even know.

My daughter has found a roommate who is great. She is funny too, just like L. And can even keep up a bit with her wit, but laughs hysterically when L is on a roll. Which is most of the time. L came for dinner last and it was nonstop laughing between each bite. She thinks I am funny too, although I'm not even close to her, but then she laughs at her own jokes. She really is a wonder. We kiss and hug goodbye and linger for a moment in each other's arms, both feeling we share in something much more precious than leftovers.

For a while I was scurrying between the frantic search for someone to share these bills with here and thinking that maybe I could get into a house now and leave all of this behind. With more intense research than before I have solidly come to the knowledge that a manufactured home (ugggh) is completely off the list. I simply don't qualify for that kind of a loan. It's a crazy thing the way these are done and 9% interest. It's way too complicated to explain here but that's off the list once and for all.  So are condos as my SS income is too low to secure a loan with the overhead of an HOA that can increase at a moments notice.  The mind blowing thing is that I do however qualify for a home mortgage. Albeit, as I've said before, that would be a crack house. But still, something to create a bit of equity for my old age - I always think I am about 40 years younger than I am, but... - and something to leave to L should I be run over by a bus. But looking for that one (secure abode) has been so exhausting with the roommate search as the other option, that I've got to choose the one with the lesser stress level....hahaha, see, there's my sense of humor. It's all so laughable.

I've missed out on reading and commenting on so many of your blogs. But I went back and read all of them today. Everyone seems to be doing ok, as much as can be expected with complicated lives and I am happy to read that.

We are experiencing a lot sunny, but not warm days. Sun makes almost everything better as opposed to the other so I am grateful for yet one more grace. My relationship with the powers that be have increased a bit. Although I still don't understand and I feel a bit bad for usually only turning there in times of need - benevolence is something to actually hold in my hands.... besides the glass of wine.

I miss each and everyone of you and will do better at staying in touch. I feel very lucky to have dear friends here. Let's keep our fingers crossed, roomy is out there somewhere!!



 

Come in, would you like to see the house?

I was going to write a nice light post --- I'm trying to keep them that way for awhile --- so that people will think that I'm not a crazy, bitch.  I'll hook you and then we'll sit down for a real chat. I hope you understand my sense of humor.

I was going to write about my stupid wonderful new roommate. He's a charmer. Sweet, smart, tidy as a pin. Washes every dish immediately, including mine (sometimes, it's not compulsory, although he can't stand to see them). I couldn't care less about dishes. I figure, save them up for awhile and then you'll get to keep your hands in a lovely sink full of warm and bubbly water while you daydream out the window. He's young and cute and quiet as a mouse...red flag there. We had a long talk about length of tenancy and rules (landlords) and smoking (none!) and alcohol (light).

It turns out that people who walk so lightly that you never know where they are until you turn around, are actually rather strange people. He's sat in his room for three solid months - on his computer. He said he is a freelance programmer. Turns out there is no such thing, as far as I can tell because he hasn't worked a day since he got here.  He has consumed over 250 bottles and cans beer (freakin' expensive IPA's). I know this because I have schlepped them all to the recycling place myself. Now that is an adventure! You can get drunk just walking into that place, the fumes! And no, I don't keep the money. What is wrong with me?!

I just found out from the landlord, when he wrote to say that he is raising the rent to $1,600, that he gave his notice on the 1st, I found out on the 6th. He said he was going to tell me .... next week. Believe me, I can not afford $1,600 by myself. He say's he has not been able to find an $18 hr. job, he can't take anything less than that. (my eyes are totally crossed here) So he has depleted his $. The min. in Oregon is, in most cases $12. He could have paid his rent 2 1/2 x's over each month. Is the word entitlement coming to mind? He is from Mass. .... Mass. will be getting him back shortly.

So now I had to slap up an ad for yet another one and cross my fingers that someone out there thinks that mine is better than the 386 others. And that who ever that is doesn't creep around the house like a ghost - nor drink like a fish.

So I thought I would give a little tour of the house, since it is already posted online for the whole world to see. I am not showing his, oddly, crazy-messy room. I'm really not one to talk, as this is the super tidied up version. This doesn't even look like a real person lives here, but evidently that is how it is done. You're probably going to think I am a snob, but I am actually a slob. Somehow I am not able to put things back where they belong until I can't remember where they belonged in the first place.
                                                                             

well that's pleasant - I sit here and dream about having raspberry plants again
                                                                                

see, he washed the dishes, it certainly wasn't me

I like this room, although the only time I spend in it is when I toss all those pillows off onto the floor because I am too traumatized to sleep in my own bed. It's really comfortable so they don't usually go back on for several days, it's addictive.
                                                                                 

I have never eaten a meal here because who wants to sit at a table this big all by themselves (odd word). I never eat at the kitchen table either. I eat in that chair there, where I also read. Sad. But the light is really good!
                                                                                

I didn't put this in the ad, but maybe I should, I'm going to rethink it. I killed that rug though, shampooed  it with one of those machines you get from home depot. It shriveled and shrunk like an old ladies boobs - had to throw it away. I miss it.
They don't need to see anything else. You wouldn't believe what other people show...bathrooms with the toilet seat up..my god!

Ok, I'm trying to hold my head up and stop the already three days of torrential tears.   Do I look worried?  Believe me, I am.  I finally took a shower...4 days is enough. Thank Jesus for erase, I actually have purple/black circles under my eyes.  I have had at least 2 bouts of hang your head crying today. I'll probably, like in I will, have another when I go to bed tonight. Everything will be alright. Everything will be alright. Actually writing this did make me feel better.  Pray, pray, pray for a sane roommate for me, one who actually comes out of her room now and then.....noooo more men! And I promise to wash my own dishes.
                                                                   

                                                                           

    oh yeah, I cut my hair 

Listen, I am never going to write about politics or religion (probably). I leave it for others who are way smarter than me. But I do like to read about it, y'all inspire me and teach me to try to be a better person.  This is just not that kind of blog.

Love
Liv