Yam vine

I found yams, as opposed to sweet potatoes, at Fiesta, a local international grocery, and brought some home. I'm a sucker for plants that sprout on their own. Life resonating with life. It's practically impossible to keep anything green alive in the Texas heat, and I can only manage to keep a modest few watered, so when I spotted embryonic leaves seeking light, I sliced off the end of the tuber and stuck it in a votive candle holder. It sent out roots instantly.

Yams are a good source of Vitamin C, Vitamin B6, potassium, manganese, and dietary fiber. Low fat and sodium mean that there is an excellent potassium/sodium balance, which protects against heart disease and osteoporosis. Pretty good deal, huh? They're easy to prepare, and I spied a recipe for crispy yam and goat cheese wontons that sounds lovely. The true yam is found widely in the Eastern Hemisphere.

Yam, June 18.


Yam as diety

If you are a big fan of Tom Robbins, as I yam, you read Even Cowgirls Get the Blues. My sister and I read it in the cardio waiting room in Houston while our dad had bypass surgery. It was the perfect book to read. I know from the author's bio that Robbins has a degree in theology, which informs each of his novels in a...well...novel way. No religious group or sect is exempt from his brilliant and humorous writing. Again, life resonating with life. The mega-alive Cissy and The Chink and the sprouting tuber are all divine. Sacred and profane. That's what happens when you're a preacher's daughter. You read a lot of theology.

The yam is the major food source for indigenous people in many countries. Some groups worship the yam as a god, holding annual festivals to purge the old and ensure success in the new year. So it makes perfect sense that Robbins collected the Eastern mystic with the iconic yam in a cave (yoni!) and crafted a memorable character as Cissy's spiritual/venal guide. If Robbins isn't writing about existential metamorphoses of various dieties, he's writing about sex. Frequently in a Shiva dance or similar yin/yang manifestation. It's challenging to write about Robbins without fumbling for abstractions to describe a very solid state of being. Even if that state is wildly creative. Or changes without notice. no(w)here.

Back to the tuber. I'm fascinated by root crops, probably the Capricorn thing. I love them. Beets, carrots, potatoes of all kinds, yucca root (my fave), turnips, rutabagas, parsnips, you name it, I scrub the dirt off and bake them or eat them raw. The only ones I don't like are licorice-flavored ones, that means you, fennel. I do like fennel seeds. I've eaten sweet potatoes all my life, a staple in the southern US. Mamaw would grow sweet potato vines in the triangular nook by the window over her sink. Which originally looked out onto a roofed/screened back porch the length of the house. When Papaw died and our family moved in with Mamaw, daddy re-plumbed and finished out the porch into a bed/sitting/bath area. This meant there were windows in the living room that looked out onto the sitting area, window connecting bedroom to bedroom, and the kitchen window. Wow.
Sweet potatoes are one of the south's staples, along with myriad greens, tomatoes, okra, and other hot weather crops. On special occasions in the Latino tradition, you'll find a delectable sweet potato tamale that's a super veggie dish, if you make your masa without lard. No southern Thanksgiving table is complete without sweet potato casserole or sweet potato pie. Props to the Texas A&M extension-service-style fact sheets for a superb information about any type of agricultural biounit in existence. Served up as friendly tidbits from A to Z--history, nutrition, culture, husbandry, and tasty, simple, economical recipes. No flash, no promotion, just the facts. Eeeeeeasy for a screen reader to read, thus accessible. I give them an A+.

Yam, June 30.

Crystal, The Purloined Angel, and Mamaw's Thimble Collection nearby bestow energy along with Sun and Water.

The Comments Gremlin

Thanks to a helpful colleague's strategy to address the comments glitch, I'm a little closer to figuring it out. Removed all...well, most... of the widgets, which I'd been meaning to prune way back for yonks anyway. I woke up this morning mortified at the thought that sloppy blog housekeeping would not look too swooft at SXSWi.

But there it is, and by process of elimination, it doesn't seem to be the widgets. Restraint is called for when I can find the time to reinsert a few. Any votes on what to keep? What to remain in the dust bin? And how would I know, if nobody can leave comments?

I have a hazy memory of problems with changing my e-mail address at work, after I got messages from friends that their posts to my old address bounced. The university is no longer supporting the old, and I was reassured by the help desk person that there was a forwarding to the new address, but I wonder if that fragile link was a tasty morsel for the gremlinkin.

So even if comments are still looping around in the net, at least I can formulate the next question to ask. OK, so maybe I'm not so mortified. Just impatient.

Axelrod, Jesus, and the Cognitive Dissonance of American Politics and Religion

I'm a preacher's daughter. When you grow up next door to where your dad works, and when he works from home a lot, and when you work in the church a lot--loading the communion trays, ditto-ing and folding bulletins, choir practice, the quotidian tasks of a church mouse--you can say you've been "baptized," "washed in the blood," as it were. Every part of my life was honest-to-god Christian. Poster-family quality. It was great. Until I figured out that some people who also said they were Christian were very mean and hurtful, for no reason I could discern.

1954 Mtn. Grove, Missouri. On the way home from Cabool one night after the movies, we rounded a curve and came upon a wreck. It was pitch dark, and we couldn't see much, but Daddy pulled over. He told us to stay in the car, and ran to the wreck to see what he could do. It seemed like a long time before a state patrol car came along, while we sat paralyzed with dread. My first real tragedy. I later learned that it was truly a tragedy for my father--one of the little boys in the wreck died in his arms, and it may have been the first time I saw my father cry. He was a real life example of a Good Samaritan.

Daddy grew up on a farm, so he was pragmatic about most things--hunted, fished, comfortable with the laws of Nature. But he had a soft spot in his heart, which helped me create an impression of THE Jesus. A man who cared about other people to the point of taking on suffering himself. Who helped others.

At the very same time, this was NOT what I saw some folks doing. Like the whole damn state of Arkansas threatening a few young people who actually WANTED to go to school to learn and grow. I couldn't see Jesus standing on the steps to the school spitting on any child, red, yellow, black or white. Because I learned in Bible School that we are all precious in his sight. Is this not the perfect Jesus all Xtians believe in?

As I grew older, and learned more about the stories and musings behind the daily structure, I found my dad's text from divinity school for New Testament Greek. In Greek. Aha. Coupled (literally) with my mom's influence with words, this propelled me into researching the general topic of religion, especially other peoples' religions. After years of study and reflection, I still believe that Jesus was a man to emulate according to the teachings we've received, no matter how shaky. I have believed since I was around 15, that Buddha and Allah and God are pretty much the same idea, with Jesus, Mohammed, and Zarathustra as the comm link, all swirled around with various colors and flavors of the Holy Ghost, ghospodi, spiritum sanctum, cavorting in Valhalla, Paradise, a sunny beach in Mexico.

Which brings me to what set off this rant. David Axelrod in an interview with someone from the WaPo. Thinking that he is just the person to be where he is right now. Kinda reminds me of Bill Moyers back when he was in politics, LBJ's press secretary, et al. Bill has that Jesus/Buddha-like quality of calm, open-minded reason, willing to do the heavy lifting into researching and reporting the truth. David Axelrod speaks the truth. I think the new administration in general is speaking the truth. Time to act more like Jesus and less like the obliterating Old Testament God of Hate that some self-styled "Christians" like our former VP and other twists to their own ends. It's a hard parallel to make, but it's stunning how politics has become so in service of a wrathful deity to practically self-immolate. At the least, to polarize politics right along with this Christian dichotomy of cognitive dissonance. At least in Hinduism, there is a pantheon of gods and goddesses to more closely mirror the human condition. Even the duality of Buddhism is a cyclical reminder that we are all one, it's all connected.

However, the destructive example of Christianity found in this country doesn't look that different to me than that of Sunni vs. Shi'ia--similar ideology--my god's better than your god, and I'm going to kill you. We're better than that.

Not an especially Christian thing to say. On the other hand, I don't advocate bombing, starving, torturing, or surrounding them with that wretched depleted uranium, or giving all the money to buddies instead of the people who it's supposed to help. I do wish that people would stop listening to them and putting any kind of Jesus-loving link to what they're saying. Jesus is better than that. Don't feed the animals.

Elderbloggers are aging...and why that's important

Capricorn/Aquarian birthdays are proliferating, and I'm aware of the wheel turning. A dear friend just turned 50. He was barely in his 20's when I met him in grad school, and I can hardly believe he has only 7 years until retirement.

Every once in a while I get swept up in a deep sense of loss, as it must happen. I've been thinking a lot lately about the very special, critical difference in elderbloggers and younger bloggers. We have less time. We must gather and push our very best adventures and what we've learned from them out on the internet and in person to connect. Clue those youngsters in to what they will need to know to get their little dogies along down the road.

Elderblogrolls, frozen in electronic amber, the penners having passed on into their respective ethers. Links take on an entirely new meaning. The march of generations.

Remarkable elders, caring enough to share in ways that are gifts rather than dictates. After all, is that not our job? My most perfect memories are at my Mamaw's side, learning how to grow flowers as well as veggies, make fried okra, sew and crochet; and my Papaw's--learning how to work with wood, make fried yellow squash, peach ice cream, and fudge with pecans.

Another phenomenon more and more with elderbloggers is contact out of the blue with old boyfriends, school chums, my sisters' school chums, my daugher's school chums et al, childhood friends from 55 years ago. I'm telling you, it's hardly even two degrees of separation now.

I'll have to find it, a post by a woman who was contacted by an old schoolmate, male. Her description was on the nose--hilariously duplicating my own experience. It's just so amazing to see new horizons to explore.

So while I'm sad to lose elder voices, their pioneering work is exemplary and inspiring. It felt good to be a part of the Viet Nam era revolution. It feels great to again be a part of a movement with positive, life-affirming goals.

Support Your Local Elderblogger

21st century elderblogging skills?

Please excuse the messing around. I'm about fed up with exploring apps for this and apps for that. I'm ready to make some choices and stick with a few useful, delete those that are just getting in the way.

Firefox, for sure. Research tools, search engines, virus/spy/etc. ware to the max and updated. My tech equipment is so miserably outdated. Surviving in the 21st century tech world can be a real pain in the ass on a modest income and an increasingly annoying proliferation of the aforementioned ware. I've been able to keep up with an Apple system at work and Dell system at home for more than ten years. But I'm about to throw in the towel with the exponential amount of WORK that entails. I'm continually having to look for ways in and out, longing to simplify rather than accrue, finding maintenance chores breeding alarmingly like Tribbles.

Tribbles were the micro-teddy bears of the original Star Trek generation. I first learned about Tribbles at my neighbor's house in the woods outside Edmond, Oklahoma, sometime in 1967. Now that's another story, which would include such shenanigans as having one of my very first psychic events. Five years later, a relative confirmed a creepy feeling I had of someone watching me. Apart from a dollop of native paranoia, the hair on the back of my neck actually stood up, and chills echoed up and down my spine. The relative said, did you know my dad had you watched by the FBI?

I've paid very close attention to any piece of information that comes to me from outside since then, even if I don't understand it immediately. It will come to pass. That can be exhilarating, or it can be scary as shit.

Doesn't have much to do with computers, except in a William Gibson-esque kind of way.

Now to figure out why folks still aren't able to leave comments. Geeze--another one of those time-sucking, fuss-budgety annoyances.

Elderbloggers and Zona Rosa Austin

I have sorely neglected my first two writing loves: elderbloggers and Zona Rosa Austin. Rather than posting on FOP, I yearn to catch up with my elderblogger buddies and see what's going on with them. The eldersphere has been so supportive and, well...wise, it has become a real source of authentication and friendship.

So I am finding time to visit my pals online and see what they're up to. As well, I have missed practically the last year of Zona Rosa Austin, the group started by Rosemary Daniell, that also is a source of inspiration and support. I finally have a free Saturday to visit with my friends f2f and share our writing ups and downs. I have watched some fine writers develop in that group, and their successes and heartbreaks are mine as well.

Meanwhile, here are some garnets I picked up in Bratislava and Prague.

Meme tagged by Kay's Thinking Cap

My pal Kay, over at Kay's Thinking Cap, tagged me with a thought-provoking meme. Here's what she asked:

Name five things in your life now that you never dreamed would be in your future when you were 25 years old.

Well, Kay made such a dynamite list she inspired me to do some digging.

1. When I was twenty-five, I never dreamed that age- and appearance-bias and discrimination was so prevalent, even among my friends and lovers--that anyone could reject me just because my body changed shape--after all, it was my mind that I considered my most important asset.

2. When I was twenty-five, I never dreamed I could ever commit to an addictive relationship that would eventually strip me of my soul, my spirit, my self-worth, and ultimately endanger my mental and physical health, or that it would take twenty-five more years to extricate myself, and another ten to recover.

3. When I was twenty-five, I never dreamed that even though I scorned chauvinism and male domination, it would be years before I finally learned how to break the shackles and become my own woman-self.

4. When I was twenty-five, I never dreamed I would travel the world and sing in wonderful venues, or have so many fascinating adventures abroad.

5. When I was twenty-five, I never dreamed that I would have a natural childbirth at home--a daughter who would grow up to be such a fabulously wonderful woman.

I have to add a sixth: When I was twenty-five, I never dreamed that I would encounter so many paradigm shifts in my life, and question so many basic beliefs--justice, fairness, sense of self-worth, ad infinitum...

Thanks, Kay, I'm going to check out the other women you tagged now!

I'm tagging Cowtown Patty at Texas Trifles, Rhea at the Boomer Chronicles, Pam at Mind Trips, Wintersong, and Dorothy at Boomer Chick: Musings of an Over the Hill Chick.

Back in the saddle again

This holiday break was wonderful. A white Christmas and New Year's, spending quality time with my baby and her sweetie and his family, and generally ratcheting down from a busy fall semester. I shamelessly did not contact my Boston peeps, for which I will now apologize. I will be back, and I will contact you.

But this visit was all about my daughter and her bf. And enjoying snow for a change. Funny thing, as soon as I got back from Texas, we've had record-breaking hot weather--all the way up to 80 degrees one day. Then down to freezing two nights later. We really are in for several decades of turbulent, rogue weather while we figure out what in the hell we're going to do about global warming.

Following the caucuses, as evident from my last post. Thinking of past campaigns and the state of the Republic at those nexuses (nexii?). Remembering campaign promises made and broken, or kept. Hoping that one day my vote will count as it used to. Like Bill Clinton--whatever his faults, he reminded me more of Stevenson and Kennedy than any other candidate before or since, and that's a good thing, in my mind.

The internet phenomenon is even more evident this campaign. After a shaky start in '00 and '04, it seems to have matured to the point that more people are listening to what the on-line buzz is rather than network TV. Another good thing. I love the badge Ronni Bennett has on Time Goes By that shows a '40's style blue-collar woman with her sleeves rolled up in front of a typewriter: "Blogs are like little first amendment machines." YES! I want that badge in a bad way.

Thus my fascination with gerontechnology vis a vis politics. I am convinced that if we make the internet more accessible to Boomers, we can actually make a difference. Thus my intention to launch a Web site dedicated to two things: making technology available and inviting for Boomers, and offering awards to Web sites that promote and embody universal usability. You heard it here first, folks, that's a long-term dream of mine. Should anyone want to participate, let me know--many heads are better than one in the blogosphere.

So to that end, I am initiating a new blogroll for sites that address gerontechnology issues. The elder blogroll will remain; this new heading is for actual Web sites that advance usability for elders. This is a subject I've been researching for years, and it's time to do something about it.

There are so many great elderblogs out there--I've had a wonderful and enlightening experience visiting every link on Ronni's elderblogroll. You can all expect at least one comment from me in the coming year--it's time to reach out and move forward with vigor!

Thank you all for blogging and enduring. Experience does count, and when we work together, we can make great things happen. Cliched, I know, but true, doncha think?

Blogging for Peace

If you want to know my true colors, here they are. You can join me in blogging for peace.

And if someone can help me figure out how to upload this image to the right nav bar so that it scales correctly, I'd be forever grateful.

Chris Pirillo rocks!

I owe Chris Pirillo from Lockergnome an apology. He responded promptly to my earlier comment that Ronni Bennett's session at Gnomedex was omitted from the resultant broadcast. This was not the case at all, and I am mortified that I even considered jumping to a conclusion without considering the sheer magnitude of potential technical glitches in mounting the conference and getting the results out to the public. Really, that I jumped to a conclusion, period. That's not the way to foster problem-solving communication.

Had I read Gnomedex's philosophy before thoughtlessly drawing incorrect conclusions, I would have saved myself considerable embarrassment. I wholeheartedly support their mission.

Chris' reply deserves a more prominent location than the comments section. Here's his comment:

"Ah, no... the videos that are there now aren't the "official" videos. :)

We had conversion problems and are trying again with the source Mini DV tapes... trust me, we take Ronni and her message very seriously. ;)"

Thanks Chris, for being so gentle with a jaded, crusted, old lady ;) I'm extremely excited about exploring solutions to these issues, and I applaud your efforts.

Thank you, Ronni!

Imagine my shock when Ronni Bennett, of Time Goes By, invited eight elderbloggers to cover for her while she was away at Gnomedex and on vacation, and I was one of the eight! She chose quite a variety of bloggers, each with a strong voice and writing style (according to her lead-in *grin), and the posts have been marvelous. I heartily urge you to drop by and sample the pinch hitters and get TGB on your "must-visit" list.

Ronni has become the "grande dame" of elderblogging, and thoughtfully articulates the various issues of aging, particularly in a societal context. She is a strong proponent of tapping in to the wealth of knowledge and information of the Boomer generation, and a stunning voice in assessing the disconnect among the generations and more importantly, the commercialization of the myth of "eternal youth."

That she presented at Gnomedex (not to mention SXSWi and other techie conferences) and turned heads to focus on how elders are labeled as un-persons is an indication of the depth of her involvement. That Gnomedex put other presenters up on YouTube, BUT NOT RONNI, leads me to think that they need to take her much more seriously. I may call up Gnomedex and take them to task for slighting her. From all second-hand reports, she was easily the classiest act there.

That she is generous and confident in her own self is evident in her invitation to share her space with other bloggers.

It was a huge honor to be tapped. Thank you, Ronni, for your generous gift and your tireless commitment.

Designing for elders

I had a lovely Monday morning surprise. The July & August 2007 edition of the information and communication tech (ICT) magazine interactions--New visions of human-computer interaction was brought to my attention by a colleague. There is a special section on elder technology, and what has become one of my all-time favorite headlines: "Innovations for graying times--designing for seniors." Is that not priceless?

And not just one, this baby has eight, count 'em, eight articles, under the guidance of guest editor Jonathan Livingston from The Memory Project. Each author offers a vision of the "needs/attributes/solutions" approach to elder technology. These brilliant writers have created elegant, articulate pieces that will feed my current obsession with cross-generational tech design quite nicely.

I love being full of untapped potential.

Zona Rosa Writing Day

(Publishing an old draft)

Today would have been Zona Rosa day, except it's Labor Day, which I'm taking to heart and working on my blog. The workshop is scooted to next Saturday, and I'll be there, listening to remarkable writing and sharing what I've done. Need to carve out some time for more extended pieces than blog posts, right after I get my house in order. Now how much of that is excuse, and how much is being pushed out the door by accumulated detritus? The following was from the August workshop...

Today was the first Saturday of the month, which means the sub-rosan Zona Rosa Austin meeting. It always feels good to do timed writing, it's like going to the gym and working out.

For me, it's the short ones. Two ten-minute exercises before lunch wore me out. I highly recommend stretching writing muscles using this technique, setting different periods of time.

La Zona Rosa herself, Rosemary Daniell, has hinted that there's a hot new book out there with stories by a galaxy of insanely good and sensually seasoned women writers, including herself. You can be sure I will buy a copy. At Book Woman, of course.

As soon as I get the press kit, I'll post it.

Focus: senior Web design

Pacific Coast, Northern New South Wales, AU

It's time to look outside the sandbox and see what's going on out there. What I'm seeing is a shitload of Boomers who are intelligent, capable, tech savvy, and eloquent, presenting needs that must be addressed to ensure that the combined interstellar experienced body of knowledge of this generation can continue to benefit society rather than totally screw it up.

To do this, we need to accomodate our elder thinkers right from the start--design. The body of knowledge must be required research to acquaint our youth with designing across the spectrum. We're doing pretty well with technical literacy for the 21-45 age group (anecdotal guesses, at best). We could do much better with education, but it's coming along. The groups that have the greatest need (IMHO) remain able to communicate electronically as long as they wish are Boomers. We're beginning to face some real and show-stopping aging crises.

HUGE untapped workforce for ideas and change. DESERVING of a loving country that respects and reveres its elders and helps them remain productive and happy to the end of their days. Am I so wrooooong?

What the hell more do you want? I'm convinced we have a whole new market in designing specifically across the continuum. I am seeing some great stuff posted by us elderbloggers, real life answers to consolidate energy and have some to spare. Dang! There's the good'uns, and then...we can't read a comment that could change someone's life. Or at least offer them the opportunity to promote the health of us all by raising critical questions and participating in free, open dialogue focused toward regenerating and preserving humanity.

A new kind of corporation. A positive-outcomes oriented collaboration honestly working toward improving every person's life on the planet. There's no excuse for the governments to devolve to primitive political posturing when we have enough brain power, and the means for linking it, to solve a whole buttload of some nagging, fear-based reversals in human evolution.

I may be dreaming, I may be full of shit, but this truth I know: I will die sitting (or lying) at my keyboard, and I will do my best to make sure my friends can all do the same, so we can talk about it and write about it. :)

So how about it? I know that I'm at the far left end of the learning curve of researching exactly what's going on out there in the techie part of the senior usability equation, because I haven't met many yet. I need to change that. I met a few Appollonian and Dionysian designers and writers at SXSWi s, whom I would have loved to have more time to engage in that dialogue. There are so many savvy people I admire and would love to chat with. If you ARE a techie interested in a dialogue about this subject, then shoot me a comment. Or if you care to write about it, just let me know where to find you.

That should work, shouldn't it?

Wow. That class really got my synapses firing. Just finished two days with Pat Schnee, who teaches an oral presentation class (among other things) and she totally inspired me. Now, I do not use that accolade lightly. I saw her mold passionate speakers, break negative self-tapes, and produce a lively, loving boot camp on how to be an authentic, effective, and engaging communicator in front of a dozen plus strangers. Professional development as guerilla theater. Dynamite stuff. Got me going, obviously.

Pat pegged me as a rambler in less than ten seconds (duh)! And she understood me totally. I have never seen a trainer so involved with her students that she can relate to every single Myers-Briggs type. Her secret? She cares. She has a priceless well of knowledge and understanding. She's good. Incendiary combination.

So my area of remediation is rambling, did ya guess??

Alcoholism: truly a family disease

I have so much to say and no legitimate place to say it. The blog must suffice. I received a call from my daughter who told me her alcoholic father is drinking again. Sounds benign, doesn't it? In reality it is a statement fraught with heartbreak, betrayal, loneliness, and a name for a family illness that is so deceptive, so powerful, that it has the audacity to ruin entire generations, crush the strongest psyche, break the most forgiving hearts.

How can others not see? The fume-laden breath, the slurred words, the stumbling physique...the signs add up to a sum that some don't recognize, some refuse to recognize, and some recognize, but are stunned with so much pain that they lose the power to objectively protect themselves, or communicate with...the rest of the world.

In her usual fashion, daughter goes through fire, retires, and takes one to three days to synthesize and take stock of the situation. Only then will she contact me, armed with a possible solution, hurt to the quick, but reaching out for some semblance of support.

I, removed from the situation by geography and time, am more able to support her actions, fortifying her decision to refuse any communication until the father takes control of his own life. I urge caution, attendance to that which makes offspring healthy and happy, no matter what the parental behavior manifests. Karma will resolve itself.

The ultimate enabler, now that the divorce is resolved in psyche as well as in fact, she is his most vital relationship, more important than new wife and children. The betrayal of parent to child, never appropriate, never positive, weighs heavily on the both of us. The final straw, "Don't tell B (the new wife)," reminds me of a series of "Don't tell this person that," as if by denying, it ceases to be true. Living a lie is one of the saddest and most toxic conditions of the human experience.

The ultimate heartbreak is that there is real love. The disease of alcoholism is so devastating that it blots out all reason, all care, all appropriateness. It becomes a recurring nightmare, feeding the disease and leaving a tale of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome and stress-related illnesses behind it, more often felling the family rather than the alcoholic.

All I can rationally do is support daughter's plan of action. What I WANT to do is fly to Princeton, and protect my child in a flurry of accusations, threats, and words of sharpened stainless steel. Annihillate the cause. Put it out of it's misery, and the pain that it causes others for whom the afflicted declares love.

This is not a a viable option, for her sake or mine. Instead, I reach out to a sister who has suffered the same pain, the same anxiety that her child is being consistently devastated by a parent whom they love, but are continually hurt by. They deserve better. My maternal instincts and hormones are bigger than life. I could easily overwhelm the transgressor and annihilate him in a holy jihad.

But this is not to be. I cannot fix this. Daughter must find a way to survive the frailties of the parent on her own to be authentic and to survive. All I can do is offer love, support, and understanding. It breaks my heart.

Mommy blog, indeed. A far cry from diapers and teething and first day of school. But more visceral, more instinctual, more protective. From a force that I have no control over, nor does the father, or the daughter. My instincts are raging, yet I must find my own way of discharging feelings of helplessness, being out of control, outrage, knowing that decisions I make while in the white hot heat of insanity must be correct and appropriate for my daughter to survive.

Humans are capable of such a polar panoply of emotions, conditions, reactions, behaviors. Would that this particular illness could be cured with an anodyne, a prescription. It isn't. It's real, devastating, and too easily perpetuated.

Deep breaths. Reminders to oneself to let go, detach with love, and simply be. Deep breath. Deep breath.