Frightened for Jeremy

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. My old high school classmate Jeremy has been in an accident in Malawi and has been airlifted to a hospital in Johannesburg, South Africa. He has a wife (also in our class and the apple of my eye) and three kids. This is not good.

A few years ago another beloved classmate passed away climbing Mt. Rainier. By the time we all found out it was already done. He was gone.

I don't want to do this again - grieve another classmate (Ed. grieve FOR another classmate. I'm sure I GRIEVE them all the time). I know I'm jumping the gun here, since we only heard that he was in a serious accident and is in hospital. I'm obsessively checking Facebook and my email. Please, please, please, let him get through this and get well.

Who am I even praying to?

UPDATE: We got word that although he has some seriously hairy injuries (no skin left on his back, dreadful fracture of his shin that required many surgeries, etc.), he is healing rapidly - astounding his doctors, in fact - and will return home to Malawi in a matter of weeks, not months. When I found out he was alive and healing I sat down on the bed rather quickly and cried and cried. Thank...whoever. Thank you. Thank you.

Changes

We're changing. Everything's changing, it seems. This summer kind of knocked us on our asses - mostly in kind of a good way - and the result seems to have been that both Ramon and I made biggish jumps ahead in a short time. It's also kept me from writing much, since I tend to be an oral processor (that just sounds ten kinds of wrong, but I'm leaving it in because I know you know what I mean) and I've been processing, via endless chatter, all this time and that left little energy to write. Pity Ramon. Pity the man.

1. In late spring, and I can't remember why, I started walking home all five work days instead of taking a bus. It's 3/4 mile and boasts varying degrees of uphill action (with some stairs as an added bonus). Combined with my walk down the hill in the morning, I was walking 1 1/2 miles a day five days a week. Without my knowledge or sanction (snort) I lost 25 pounds.

2. In early June I joined the gym across the street from my workplace and started taking yoga classes three times a week. I soaked the mat with sweat every class (literally. I'd press my hands down during a pose and bubbles would come out of the holes in the mat), my poses looked ALL wrong and I hurt all the time, either from exertion during or muscle soreness after. Then I started getting muscles here and there, getting more limber by painfully tiny increments, and enjoying myself. Kind of. The pain and sweat and exhaustion (and clumsiness) remain, so I've started taking Pilates classes the other 2 days a week for strength. In case all the complaining got you on the wrong track, I love doing this. It's like crack for a pudgy old lady like me.

3. In early June, as well, I was diagnosed with Bipolar 2 disorder, told I'd probably lived with it since Day 1, and medicated accordingly. You can bet your booties I'll write more on this one. This is the big one.

4. Ramon and I spent the last 10 days of June in England, visiting an old beloved friend (FISH!!), meeting her husband, and touring around her beautiful village. We also spent three days walking around London and plan to live there at some point for a goodish period of time. We grieved, grieved, grieved when we came home to Seattle. Grieved for missing Fish and Nick, the country around their home, and London. When I tried to play "England My Lionheart" by Kate Bush I cried all over the kitchen counter.

5. Ramon researched and purchased equipment to record music at home on our MacPro. Now we're sort of hovering around it and trying to find our muse (preferably the really big one with a baseball bat). I've got a huge learning curve with this stuff, but it's all in the name of Creative Output, so I must prevail.

6. Ramon began a painting class early this fall and has also found new inspiration in abstract art, so the flat is alive again with his work and beautifully cluttered with his paint tubes, brushes and he shanghaied my favorite vase for a rinse can. And I donated the last two white linen napkins that we received as wedding gifts (therefore 10 years old and much-stained) as premium paint rags. I hope our home's like this forever.

7. Our ten-year anniversary was in August, and we celebrated it our way: living room. Cats. Good food. Entertainment. Alcohol. Oh, and the England trip, unofficially.

Thus endeth the list, unless I've forgotten something. Add to all this a faint but pervasive miasma of workplace uncertainty - for both of us - and you've got a summer that felt...exquisitely weird. So far though the change has been so, so good, with some hitches along the way. Most days I try to keep inspiration alive and pray - a bit desperately - that I won't go back to the way I was before. I'm not sure I could bear it.

I've missed talking to you.

Love,
C