I love to laugh...

probably too much. One strives for that perfect balance between being easily amused and not being ridiculous. That being said, lately my life has been pretty ridiculous.

Bats in my house. For real people, bats. I am house sitting for a friend's aunt and so have not been at the mountain house to deal with the bat situation properly. I came up with a brilliant plan to open the windows and turn on all the lights, to drive the bats (the actually number of bats is unknown, there were many flurried sightings)into the dark night. This plan resulted with the bats being joined in the house by 1,000,000 moths. Excellent.

But this story has a sad ending. I went to the house yesterday afternoon to escape the city (who knew that mountain living would make the bustle of the city, neighbors, and cars somewhat unbearable. There is no silence!) and while puttering around the house sewing, I found a little dead bat. It was really sad. It was so small and so sweet looking, its little black wings withered and curled up around itself. I buried it and was depressed I could not save it in time.

I was working on the book this morning with Paul and Sherm. Shu, the most amazing cook ever, whipped up some scallion pancakes (unspeakably delicious). She placed the pancakes and the dipping in sauce in front of me and well out of Paul and Sherm's reach. Paul did, in fact, reach for the plate, scooting it closer to him and snagging one of the pancakes. I brought the sauce closer to him so he could enjoy that too. Shu, however, saw him snacking and said, "No! This is for her, not for you. You had rice already, you eat later." Paul sheepishly finished his pancake as Shu moved the plate and sauce, again, closer to me and out of his reach. A little bit later I offered Sherm a pancake, feeling bad that Shu had decided I was the only one allowed to eat. Shu returned again, now hovering closeby as she had discovered I had a tendency to give away my pancakes, to chide Sherm, return the plate to my place. It was fascinating. I still don't really know what happened. (Shu did make Sherm pancakes later and I can only assume she made Paul an elaborate lunch that she didn't want him to spoil his appetite for.)

This past week a solar eclipse occurred and we transitioned from summer to late summer. (In Chinese medicine there are five seasons, late summer being the added category). Apparently this causes the metaphysical poo to hit the metaphysical fan, because all of our patients are undergoing serious trauma. At least, this is what some practitioners are attributing the trauma to. The last week has brought us suicides (yes, more than one), family crisis that make you want to weep, patients slowly fading from their debilitating illnesses, and so much more. I was looking for a sympathy card for someone that was kind to me in a small way who recently met with an unexpected death in their family. None of the tailored words or poetic condolences could possible ease the sadness they are going through. It made me feel sick. I know such cards are not suppose to stem the tide of grief in any real way, but it seems like such a pathetic token to offer. I want to scoop everyone up and make it all better. Alas, my arms simply aren't big enough.