November 19, 2000,8:00 p.m.

 The Sunday School class I taught went well, I think. Several people congratulated me afterwards, and Barb said,

"Were you nervous?"

"Of course."

"You didn't act nervous. You acted very relaxed."

Of course, it helped that I was talking about William Blake, whom I knew something about, and unhesitatingly called,

"A nut---albeit an interested, talented nut. Sort of like the Shirley McClaine of his day."

I found the transparency projector without any problem and showed slide after slide of his BOOK OF JOB on the wall....

 I really can't say how I'm going to do this holiday season. At one point Barb and I had talked about ignoring Thanksgiving altogether. The next thing I knew, she had bought a big turkey. As she put it,

"I might as well keep busy."

...And it's true that both Brian and myself dearly love dressing.

The actual---I hate to call it "anniversary", it sounds like we're celebrating it--of Jamie's passing will be a week from tomorrow. At that time I will be very busy rehearsing my presentation to give in front of my CEO and the Executive Committee for my Six Sigma certification.

The busier the better.

 Yet---there's that four-day weekend. Am I dreading it?

Not ....at the moment. I'm watching myself for signs, though.

There was a little--if not finality---at least comfort---in the ritual we observed for Jamie's birthday. I don't say we're totally at peace. I don't think we ever can be.

Come November 27th, I might want to come home and curl into a little ball...as I did that night when Jamie died.

When Jamie died....

That's why I haven't altered my look for November. I can't think of anything that isn't...either ghoulish or too light-hearted. I can't decide. Not this month. I can't bring myself to change...because I can't decide.

 It's like I'm learning to walk again. Like I've been injured, and learning to walk, with a cane. Except I'm learning to--instead of walking---I'm learning to enjoy the holidays again.

Hobbling through the holidays.

I can spend the time feeling sorry for myself or spend the time not dwelling on it overmuch, while observing. Not forgetting---not just letting it overwhelm me.

It sounds good. It sounds brave.

Let's see how well I do...in the next week.

 Y'know, that's the weird thing about doing a journal like this one. I leave a record behind. Only what I want to leave, true...it's not like a webcam, or living in a glass house, where people can peek in whether I will or no. Yet...

I can read entries from a year ago, and I can be complaining about Jamie, with no idea what's about to happen. I want to shout at myself sometimes,

"Treasure what you have---while you have it!!"

It's a bad sign when you want to shout at yourself. Especially your past self.

Wish me luck this coming week.

I'll need it.

 : : :

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one year ago today : RESCULPTING MY CYBERSPACE .

two years ago today : (Better viewed in Netscape or IE 5) PACHYDERM PRIVATES AND STARR WARS

Three years ago today: (Better viewed in Netscape or IE 5) ONE SMALL VICTORY

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