Wanted to write about thankfulness for my last November post, but I am so pooped from work. So here’s my stream of consciousness thanks list:
- My job where I spent today making 3D snowflakes, played with kids, and ended the evening with a cupcake.
- My son. He’s so awesome and I am so blessed to be his mom, even if I hate age 15.
- A roof over my head, food to eat, and an awesome teen girl bedroom.
- My PEZ Collection.
- MY SOBRIETY!
- My family.
- My sober friends.
- My long-time friends.
- My bloggy friends.
Here’s to the last month of the year!
One of the mostest bestest things about Duluth during the holidays is Bentleyville, America’s largest free walk-through light display. It is beyond fantastic, melting the hearts of any “green” loving, anti-frivolous-uses-of-electricity grinches. My son and I began going to Bentleyville when it was on the Bentley’s property back in 2004. Ten years later, it is a spectacular tourist attraction in beautiful Bayfront Park.
Minnesota’s superhero, Paul Bunyan, towing the xmas tree with Babe, the blue ox.
My son (right) and his older brother (from another mother).
Black Friday is the Black Plague of Americans’ souls. WTF, opening stores at 4 p.m. Thanksgiving? I’m afraid to leave the family homestead today, but we have places to go, people to see. But at this moment I shall listen and share the music of this fair city:
Trampled by Turtles on David Letterman
Low, “Just Like Christmas”
View of UMD and Lake Superior
Big boat on big lake.
One of the things I dislike about no longer living in Duluth is that I now have to travel there. I hope to leave after this morning’s snow storms, with wishes for clear roads.
This is the end of today’s post. I was losing time trying to find a photo or link to demonstrate how Duluth is the Bermuda Triangle of winter weather, but instead I’ll get my stuff together so I have plenty of time to drive safe.
Safe travels to all today!
Today I am thankful that I am not homeless. After a meeting yesterday I gave a young woman, from a town an hour or so away, a ride to the Library. She was going to spend time there, like many without a place to live, until she could get into the shelter. Med City’s shelter is nice but only holds 22 people; I hope she was able to get a bed.
She is not the first, and will not be the last, person I’ve met in the rooms who is homeless. Addiction robs you of everything; no one wants you if you’re drinking, drugging and stealing. She was in town awaiting an addiction assessment, hoping to get a long-term inpatient treatment somewhere. She appeared to be sober and willing to go to great lengths to further her sobriety.
Her assessment is not until Friday. She hopes her Grandmother, from her hometown, will pick her up and she’ll spend Thanksgiving with her. I hope this happens, but have the feeling she will be in limbo until she goes to treatment. If she is in town, I hope she finds her way back to the club on Thursday. They have a wonderful, all-day Thanksgiving celebration. Addiction does not judge. It can take anyone to low depths. But for the most part, the people in the rooms do not judge either, for they have been to those deep dark places themselves.
I’m sitting on a red velvet couch, in dim lighting, at our collaborative artists’ salon. Every Monday we have our writing group. I’ve missed the last two weeks primarily because it’s cold and dark now at night and I do not want to leave the coziness of my room.
Even though I only see these people once a week (unless I participate in other salon events) these are my peeps. We sit, we write, we share. It’s a social introverts dream; socialization in silence. A time to write alone with others.
We begin with a prompt. Some days we write on this subject, then pass our work to the right every five minutes; each writer beginning where the last left off. I love these communal works of fiction.Today we did a short prompt followed by 45 minutes to work on our own stuff. We are a diverse group; a film writer, a poet, sci-fi writers, the undefined, and I, the blogger.
Before group tonight I was at home daydreaming about Bass and not wanting to post anything on my blog. But here I am, on a comfy couch, in total silence, writing for you. Well, not total silence; just heard the helicopter bring some poor soul to med city central.
Our prompt tonight was “A Superhero whose power is only activated when he/she is drunk.” We had 15 minutes to write. My story is about a criminal defense attorney, who is a non-drinking Mormon, discovering she can read minds after drinking a Long Island Ice Tea. Fifteen minutes is not long enough to write fiction, or even flesh out a concept, but it gets you writing. For this girl who did not want to blog today, that short work of fiction with this group of writing misfits inspired a necessary November post (NaBloPoMo).