A New Normal.

Life after death. Untangling 40 years of life together. 

[madge-world]

Dark days here in Minneapolis. I am grateful for the bravery of people Light > darkness / evil.

in this city and state. We will prevail.

I dwell in possibility.

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Still Life with tape measure. This is how I amuse myself. It just happened: the squash, the lemon, the onion.

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Tonight. The Eve of my late husband's "DeathAversary." 11 years gone. And the guy didn't even to collect his hard earned Social Security. I've I'm not fond of the "late" descriptor. But it feels a big gentler than "dead." How else would you say it? Do tell.

I'Have you seen the ever popular Emotion Wheel-- you know the one your therapist has in their office. Kind of like the color wheel artists use -- 12 colors in a standard wheel and more as you move to outer rings: Primary, Intermediate, then Tertiary. Warm and Cool.

The emotions core feelings: Sadness. Calm. Love, Joy, Surprise, Anger, Disgust, Fear. and a host of others as you move to the second and third rings. And boy do they dig in. So many to choose from. If you're feeling sadness, move to the next ring and you mibht be lonely, despairing,. remorseful or head to the outer ring and you might be more than sad, you ight be heartbroken, or depressed.

So, tonight I"m feeling calm. In spite of the fact Steve quite inconsiderately died and left me to deal with, well . . . things on my own.

Which brings me to this photo. It is somewhere in Ireland. It felt like the passageway to a secret place. A Fairy Tale setting. A place you might be reluctant to step through. Or excited. (What would the emotion wheel say? Would you change as you moved through. One world to another. Maybe it depends on which side you're starting on.

Of course, I'm overthinking this.Me?

After he died, stepped through a secret place. To different life. Took me awhile to recognize what was happening, to turn and see the unkempt, wild vines and tiny flowers(or are they berries?) absolutely exploding with life. Sooner or later I'll catch up with him. but for now, I choose life. And soon, I hope a wild garden.

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Hiya. Well it’s been awhile.

But recently, inspired by a random memory from growing up I South Mpls—The weekly column “After Last Night” by a guy named Will Jones, I thought it might be fun to write again. No big reveal here. More A-let’s-see-what-happens kind of thing. For sure I won’t be writing on an iPhone.

Over and out, good buddies.

💚 Love today and always.

[madge-world]

Wanna bawl your eyes out? Go ahead, watch this. Grumpy and baby Ralph.

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So. Struggling with what to do with Steve’s guitars. Just sitting here tonight, listening to music -- Roy Orbison, George Harrison -- good God almighty, can they bring me to tears -- getting maudlin about his stuff. Even two years later, I think he will just walk in the back door. I love this photo of him playing his Telecaster -- he always bought the best and most beautiful guitars. This black and white one, man, it’s fancy, like a tuxedo. He’d sit in the basement, or anywhere and just play his blues riffs. It used to drive me crazy (especially when we were watching TV) but now? Now, I’d give anything to hear him playing. Typical.

What do we have here? Four lefties including the one he’s playing --

A Hohner -- HG-805 (or is it 905) with a hard shell case.

A Martin Acoustic. D-28-L.

An Epiphone electric Sheraton IILH-VS. Hollow body with hard shell case

And that damn sweet Telecaster.

Guitars are meant to be played -- I can’t leave them here to deteriorate and get out of tune. The Mission Impossible assignment of the month, should you chose to accept it -- set these guitars free. Got any bright ideas?

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#chezmadame was suitably patriotic for Memorial Day. OK, so we didn't get the flag bracket installed by the door but we improvised. Steve always hung the colors along with the Marine Corp flag on significant holidays or the Marine Corps birthday (November 10). Trying to honor that tradition. . . but I forgot to bring them in at sunset last night.

With all my big talking about being bold and brave and strong, I couldn't make the trip to Fort Snelling yesterday. The first time -- I could barely breathe on the drive there. Found Section 30 but finding #1500 was another story. When he was buried in October 2014, there were 3 graves in his row. The following summer? Almost the entire section was full. Full! Disoriented by this, I panicked and wandered up and down rows. I called Meggie sobbing, "I can't find him!" And she talked me off the ledge and I found my man. Nothing like that etched stone to really make it final. Rest in peace, Steve. I'll fly that flag until I'm not able to lift it, which I hope is in about 30 years.

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Big river keep on rolling. Nothing like a #roadtrip along the mighty #mississippi listening to music -- La Boheme -- if you can listen to Act 4 without crying then you have no soul. Some of the most emotional, evocative melodies. Love and tragedy, and tears and memories and speeding down the road. "Why, yes, officer, I was going a little fast. Yes, in fact, I was crying and it's none of your business."

Road trips are the best -- driving alone through a landscape that is at once familiar yet new. Something that lets my mind just drift from one thought to another. Thoughts just riccocheting around like kids getting crazy at a pool table. I can't help where my mind goes--just like the thoughts that spin when I'm trying to fall asleep and can't. Road trip therapy. Only I'm only talking to myself.

Gas stops in tiny towns. Stock up on salty snacks, peanut M & Ms and weak coffee. Break all my rules about not eating in the car. Steve wasn't a great road tripper. He liked to get from point A to point B as quickly as possible. And I liked to swing off the highway for anything that caught my eye. Guess I get it from my mama. She liked the two-lane blacktop more than the interstate, too. Takes longer, but it's like being in a Woody Guthrie song.

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Funny, I don't see a pool around here. Or cigarettes for that matter. Adventures along the Mississippi. #widowadventures / #mississippiriver / #roadtrip (at Genoa, Wisconsin)

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The mighty Mississippi! Taking the long way from LaCrosse to Milwaukee. 🎶This land is your land, this land is my land.🎶 I love being alone in the car. Back roads. County roads. Stay off the interstate. It's nothing but trucks and people who don't know how to use the passing lane.

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Theo's favorite food truck-- @the_anchor_mpls -- early Mom's Day dinner. Tradition. Fish & Chips and mushy peas but we're a man down again this year. We were at the same high-top table where Steve and I always used to sit. Right by the bookshelf. He would always just grab a book and read. I never minded. It's noisy in there and the McInerny bad hearing always made conversation hard. "WHAT?" Tired of shouting he'd just jam his face in a book until dinner arrived. This year, with Trixie and Theo and Meggie it was the same table, but a different story.

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Caution: redecorating in progress. #chezmadame / #MarlboroBlue /

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"The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals; They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat, And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me." -- Sylvia Plath

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"[The modern age] knows nothing about isolation and nothing about silence." - Wallace Stegner. You've got that right, Wallace. This gorgeous vista soothes my soul. There is not another person in sight. The isolation and silence is delicious. #mountainlife / #widowadventures / #colorado (at Jefferson, Colorado)

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Reflecting on life and what to eat. Easy run by Lake Nokomis. (And by "easy" I mean slow.) Our town is real purty.

Not that I'm turning into a "runner" -- whatever that is -- but when I'm feeling anxious going for a run helps soothe my soul. I pride myself on having a high boiling point and a tremendous tolerance for stress but these days a vague feeling of anxiety or something being off balance creeps into my mind. The tiny part of my brain that is logical says that grief is making me a little crazy in a million little ways.

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Springtime = golf at Hiawatha. The mister’s milieu. After the impossible winter a sunny day and open greens just brought him to life -- along with hanging out with his Geezer Golf Friends. I just heard Chet Baker sing this his Hoagy Carmichael song -- it’s really a breakup song -- but the last verse really killed me.

I get along without you very well Of course I do Except perhaps in spring, but I should Never think of spring For that would surely break my heart in two

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Cafè Coretto. Caffeine. Sugar. Alcohol. An intense trifecta and the kick we needed after pranzo di lavoro.