In Which I Define A Native Inspired Diet

I am Native American- I am going to eat like it, because that keeps me the healthiest.

Fat does not make you fat, starches and refined sugars and fructose/glucose/dextrose etc. make you fat. Especially if you're sedentary.

I have a lot of recipes marked on Pinterest that are "Paleo". Paleo diet posits that cavemen ate lots of meat, that lots of grains aren't good for you, and that fruits, veggies, nuts and meat are the best diet.

I don't think this is entirely healthy. I am Native American, and I know what my ancestors ate in order to be healthy. They had a LOT of seed grains, no refined sugars, tons of fruits and greens and vegetables, and lots and lots of lean meats. I intend to eat like this.

So for recipes, I'm going to get Paleo and Vegan recipes and use them in my diet.
I get a cheat day per week to eat things like Panda Express, and I will be basing my diet in vegetables and fruits, with multigrains and seed grains, and then lean meats. "Paleo" doesn't allow dairy, and my own constitution doesn't technically either, but I love cheese, and butter is half decent for you, actually, in MODERATION.

MODERATION is key to everything in diet, as well as eating no more processed crap, eating things that are genuinely FOOD.

In Which I Resolve to Become Dangerous Again

I used to be dangerous. I was scary good. It was fun. I could depend on my body to do insane things for me.This was freshman year of college. I was physically competent to the point of skilled agility and defense. I could look at a lineup of ten people and say, yep, I could beat four of them- seven of them if I have a ballpoint pen with me. I could go exploring in the hills and rely on my strengths and senses to keep me agile, mobile and safe, with just a stick and a phone and a bottle of water. I could go running over a path full of obstacles and deftly avoid each one, reflexively.
I wanna do that again.

I've been sick for two months straight. Medication adjustment all of November, then sinus infection -> Bronchitis -> Pneumonia for all of December. I am so done being fragile. I wanna go run up mountains now, but that isn't going to happen. Contrary to how I was raised, you can't just barrel on through things because you decide to Keep Moving- that's how I got Pneumonia from a measly Sinus infection. I pushed too hard, too fast, trying to MAKE myself get better NOW.

Well, not this time. This time people who inquire after my health and insist I should push harder will just have to be patient, because I am not going to do anything too fast. THEY aren't the ones who will suffer if I overwork myself. Just repeat that. They are not the ones who will suffer if I push too hard, I WILL. I'm going to do this at a speed I can feel is right and healthy, no matter what anyone else says.
I will not let myself be pressured into doing more than I can handle.

I will not let myself be pressured into doing more than I can handle.

I will not let myself be pressured into doing more than I can handle.

So to be concrete:
January-
-I will get myself to the point that I can walk my dog myself, and move about the rest of an average day, without being utterly exhausted. I am too weak for this now, this must change.
-I will be cutting out all potatoes and white breads. Vacation's over. Multigrain or nothing, kids.
-I will be experimenting with new vegetable recipes, and trying to eat more fruits and veggies.

By March, at least two of my daily meals will be vegetable based. Somehow.

In Which I am STILL Sick. AGAIN. Send Help Plz.

SO I did my week or so of medical rest, and then a week sort of recovering from that and prepping for Thanksgiving, and then the day after Thanksgiving I let myself get waaaay too much exposure to freezing dusty desert air. No, really, literally freezing. I have not been that cold in a very, very long time. A few years at least. As could be easily expected, that night I felt quite dead and I woke up with sinus problems that turned into a full blown infection.

So here it is about a week later and I still can't breathe properly. I've spent all this time in bed, again, with a brief respite on Saturday when I thought I was starting to recover, and I got out of bed for a bit longer than an hour at a time and was able to talk with friends and sculpt a little and even ordered Pizza.

I am concerned that all the health I gained over the summer will have atrophied right off me after spending an entire month in bed. Lots of other people have worse conditions than me, and maybe if it were worse I could accept it more gracefully because it'd feel, I dunno more real? This is like a lousy false half sickness that will not loose its grip, and I am running out of things to do while sick in bed.

I also feel like a loser for whining and needing so much help. I am not able to get out of bed and perform any task more complex than make cocoa or heat food in a microwave. I certainly cannot drive a car right now.
So for a bit there things got kind of desperate because I ran out of groceries and out of laundry and out of room in the bin to put my trash, and my dog was just not getting enough exercise. My friends work and my family are busy.
Luckily I was able to get help- My parents came at night and walked my puppeh, my wonderful friends came over Saturday and helped me with dishes and trash and they brought me bread and milk, and today my lovely Mother came, walked my dog and brought me clean laundry and cough drops.

Now If I could just get some sleep instead of trying to hack up my lungs...
I don't want pneumonia, I've had it once and it's exactly like another month or two of this...

In Which I Have Made Myself Sick, Sort Of.

Argh. I have been on bed rest for the whole week. Not. Fun. Rar. I'm just not used to this kind of thing.

I am adjusting a medication of mine, but the darn stuff is so freaking strong that one has to drop the dose in increments, and every time one does this, one ends up knocked for a loop and in bed for a week- One of the reasons I want OFF of this drug is that it is so very strong and messes with my health like this. So not worth it, can't wait to be free of it.

I have a dog to take care of, dishes and groceries needing doing, and a life to live, and very few local friends with time to help out. Grr. Impatient.

Luckily for me, I do have some friends and family who have been very patient with the whole, Wah, I can't do anything Mess. They've been bringing me food, or walking my dog, or just keeping me company online.

In Which I Mention the Dolls

So, feetofclaydolls.blogspot.com is my other blog, and it is all about my dolls. I collect and customize special art dolls called Ball Jointed Dolls. Unlike typical collector's dolls, these are not mean to only sit on a shelf. They are made to be customized and personalized, and are extremely posable.




They are not limited to baby dolls and toddler dolls as is normally popular, and my own collection has every age from toddlers to a fifty two year old man.




They can be photographed beautifully and are capable of looking very human.



Check out my doll blog for more info!

In Which I Scare the Dog, and She Gets Revenge

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/ Go to this blog. Oh my goodness I have not laughed so hard in ages. It has been seriously helping me de-angst myself, because you can't feel sorry for yourself while you're hurting your face and scaring your dog because of how hard you're laughing.

The fluffy white dog is giving me a look from the other side of my apartment, in her bed where she sleeps, and it is an utterly confused and disturbed face. She has no idea why The Boss keeps squeaking and snurfling and making strange sounds. Eventually she gets used to the noises and she goes to sleep but I suspect that in her fluffy doggy head she knew she would have her inevitable revenge.

Cut-scene to about an hour later.
Me, still snickering quietly over Hyperbole and a Half. Her, my floofy roommate, innocently curled on her furniture-moving-pad bed in the corner of the Main room...

( I should say at this point that my apartment is small. It has five rooms. Four, technically. A kitchen nook that is part of a huge Main room, which I have tried to use my furniture to break up into a dining area, a reading area and a couch and movie area- A bedroom- A teeny tiny bathroom- and the Studio. That's it. I can see the dog's bed in the Main room from my own bed if my bedroom door is open, as it usually is, since the dog doesn't care if she sees me in just a t-shirt and scottish-plaid panties.)

So I'm in bed doing some reading and suddenly there's this horrible smell. A smell wafting around my rooms, a smell no human could produce. And I squint through the dark and Miss Floof is curled innocently in her bed, eyes shut, paws twitching in semi-concious glee at the discomfort she might be aware she's causing me. If anyone ever tells you dogs cannot fart, smack them for me.

In Which I Angst a Little, Some More.

Hands touch, eyes meet
Sudden silence, sudden heat
Hearts leap in a giddy whirl
He could be that boy
But I'm not that girl

Don't dream too far
Don't lose sight of who you are
Don't remember that rush of joy
He could be that boy
I'm not that girl

Ev'ry so often we long to steal
To the land of what-might-have-been
But that doesn't soften the ache we feel
When reality sets back in

Blithe smile, lithe limb
She who's winsome, she wins him
Gold hair with a gentle curl
That's the girl he chose
And Heaven knows
I'm not that girl

Don't wish, don't start
Wishing only wounds the heart
I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl
There's a girl I know
He loves her so
I'm not that girl...

Don't wish, don't start
Wishing only wounds the heart:
There's a girl I know
He loves her so
I'm not that girl....

(Lyrics from musical "Wicked")


Why do I have to fall so hard for wonderful guys who would never imagine I'd be interested, and certainly never dream of being with me? I try to hint, try to speak to him, try to smile at him whenever I see him, try to meet his eyes and let my eyes say something about what I feel, about how I could love him... And then I have to smile when he shows up with a cheerful, beautiful woman on his arm, because he's wonderful, and she's wonderful too, and they are so wonderful together, and how could I have ever thought I would be a fit match for him...

In Which I Tell You about Depression

"Oh, yeah, I was depressed once. I was so sad I couldn't go to this great concert that I stayed in my room for, like, three days."

Traumatic as that maybe, I'm sure, it's not Depression. People can feel sad for what they think is a long time without having depression.
Sadness is when your life is difficult.
Mourning is when you lose someone or something you love and you go through a long process of the emotional effects of your loss.
Depression is when, even if your life is fantastic, multifigure salary, great car, easy job, you can't FEEL anything BUT emptiness or misery or pain.

Having money does not solve it.
Other people do not solve it.
Positive Thinking and getting told to Snap Out of It or Just Keep Trying Harder does not solve it.

Even the wonderful things you used to enjoy doing take effort and will you no longer have. Some people lose the will to live. You physically cannot experience sustained contentment or happiness.

To someone who is Depressed, Do NOT say:
Can't you just quit being so selfish? (Depressed people are often lonely and want a connection with other people)
Well, set your alarm, and just get yourself out of bed!
Power on through it, yeah? You gotta keep trying harder and it'll go away. Try not to be so miserable.(You would never say this to a person with cancer, would you?)
You're not fun to be with anymore. (Or this?)
You're only hurting yourself. You're missing out on so many wonderful things in life! (As if they are doing it on purpose, or need to be told how much joy other people can have that they can't.)
Have you tried yoga/prozac/not being depressed? (Helpful suggestions are rarely helpful, and there is no magic pill to make it just vanish.)
If you exercised more you'd be fine. (While activity releases endorphins, this is not helpful to someone who barely has the will to get up each day and move about, let alone go work out, alone in their mental emptiness)
If you don't get your act together, how are you ever going to get a date/be there for your spouse/raise children? (People with mental illnesses are well aware of what impact that has on their relationships in life. Trust me, they don't need reminders of their loneliness and the social stigma they have to live with.)
Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Life's not fair. It isn't all about you. There's always someone worse off than you are. (Other than accusing the person of low moral character, these words accomplish nothing.)
If you'd just take my advice and ----- you'd do so much better! (You're probably not a psychologist and odds are good you do not understand what this person is going through completely enough to give them a simple cure.)
You're at a party/with friends/with family, can't you be happy? Don't you love us?
It's your own fault, you know.
You do this to yourself.
People with Depression have to hear these kinds of things every day from their own inner demons as well as friends and relatives. Don't add to their pain by "helping" like this.


What to say if you CARE about someone who has Depression:

I'm here for you.
Even though I don't understand what you're going through, I'm going to stick with you.
I won't give up on you.
Is there anything I can do for you to help you? (DON"T SAY IT UNLESS YOU MEAN IT. They may need help that is not convenient or easy, like handling chores at their house, or having you watch their kids or pet for a little while)
Do you want to just come over and spend some time here with me? No strings attached. (Sometimes a depressed person doesn't need hugs, or advice, but just someone else around who cares.)
When this is over I'll be here, and so will you. I know you can hang on through this, even though it hurts.
You're not going crazy.
You don't need to worry that your pain might hurt or offend me. I understand this is nobody's fault.
You are important to me, and I just wanted to take a moment to see if you're doing okay.
What you are going through is not just an inconvenience to me. I don't mind making a little time for you.
I care about you.
I don't have to understand it to know that it hurts you, and I'll be here for you.

People with depression don't need very much. They don't need coaching from you, or clever solutions, or for you to try to fix a problem that you cannot fix. They need a few minutes of your time, to know you care, to know you are willing to be there for them as just an anchor and support. Don't try to fix them, just support them, and sometimes help them get help from qualified sources. Most of all, Be there, with empathy and compassion.

In which I Try to Get Life Back in Line: Labor Day.

I feel like I'm always playing catch-up, juggling every day to try to get to birthdays, events, dinners, bills, taxes, vacations, obligations, all around my work hours, and somehow in between find time for the art that keeps me sane. I want family time and friend time, but I also have obligations and money-things like taxes and not-fun stuff like bills and rent and managing worky stuff.

I have a new job of sorts and I am in love with it even though it's demanding- I work at a local Motion Picture Studio now, and they are doing a series of episodes from the New Testament.
I am an Art Dept. Go-to, which is like a go-fer but more productive. It means that my boss decorates the set and he needs stuff for it, and if he doesn't have time to have someone else make the stuff, he comes to me and says, "Can you make me this?" and I say, "Yep, I can do that!", which is my arting motto. So far he has liked my work *squee* which is for me a huge thing because if he likes my stuff I've done, they will likely call me in for other projects too, and I will get to keep working there. Every day is a new challenge, and it's something I've inadvertently trained for since High School- limited time, limited materials, and a need for a certain outcome and historical look, Go! I am an expert at this! Making do and getting results from faked or limited material is what I do best! I am so ridiculously happy to have everything I've been doing with my art and reenactment for these last few years suddenly have work application! I have realized I want to do this the rest of my life.

...Which leaves me in a quandary as to my education. I want a degree, but in what? My nascent career in the Entertainment industry hardly requires a degree- in fact they could care less. They require results, talent, speed, reliability and ability, not a certificate saying I'm really good at writing educated papers. I know a degree is more than that, but if you can't write educated papers to specific formats, you No Can Haz, no matter how frickin brilliant you are. I am wondering if a traditional degree is even possible for me. Between my autistic tendencies in learning and communication and my anxiety and depression that totally screwed me academically, I don't know. I feel this driving idiotic lifelong need to Get A Degree so that society will see me as educated and worth employing, but the only people I want to employ me don't give a flying fart whether I have one or not. Argh.

Raine's Rules for the Internet

Raine's Rules for the Internet

#1. Do not have personal arguments in ANY public venue. Facebookers, take note.
Personal Messages are for personal issues. Walls, boards and forums are for public discussion. Anything you post there is as private as a screaming match in a crowded mall or plaza. Posts about STDs, medical details, petty arguments, sniping comments about your ex, rude opinions intended to be abrasive, overly pointed political comments, etc, make you look like a fool.

#2. Unless grammatically needed, CAPS LOCK = SHOUTING. JAHWOHL!
THE ONLY PERSON I COULD IMAGINE POSTING EVERYTHING IN CAPS WOULD BE DER FUHRER. SIG HEIL. SIG DON’T DO IT.

#3. Do nt type ne publik post leik ths. Unlez dis is ho u tak in real life, dis is only ok n text mssgin as a way 2 save time.
Unless that’s how you sound in reality, don’t make yourself sound ridiculous on the internet. U is a letter. Ur was a city in ancient Sumeria. Dis is a supposed city in Hell according to certain dogmas. Please use decent attempts at spelling and grammar. People will think of you as clear and intelligent. “You’re” means You Are. “Your” means is belongs to you. End of story.

#4 Do not forward chain mail/letters/messages.
Unless you’re in Fourth Grade, do not forward chain letters. You force other people to delete unwanted stuff from their inboxes or walls. It’s pretty much the equivalent of having your dog crap on the lawn of every single person you know.
(If you’re reading this and you are in Fourth Grade, what the heck are you doing online? The internet is no place for children without a parent sitting right next to them. Parents: If you wouldn’t let your kid wander alone through New York City, they’re probably not old enough to wander alone on the internet either.)

#5. TANSTAFL. There Ain’t No Such Thing As Free Lunch. It’s as true on the internet as it is in real life.
You are not the millionth visitor, you did not win a free iPad, or a free car, nobody in Nigeria wants to send you a million dollars, nor is any link you’re given with the promise of free stuff a safe thing, no Suburban Mom makes 7,000 dollars a week with this easy plan, there is no miracle berry diet, you cannot flatten your belly or whiten your teeth with one easy strange old tip, nobody will send you free stuff or job opportunities if you give them your Social Security Number and bank account, and nobody is selling solid gold watches for a dollar apiece. “Daddy, I’ve got cider in my ear.”

#6. Safe Search, Parental Settings, Antivirus software, and Spam filters. Use. Them. What you may see cannot be unseen.
If any combination of words involves a noun or a verb, there is already extremely explicit pornography of it on the internet. I guarantee this. Do not test it. Don't.
Curiosity didn’t kill the cat- It took the cat’s innocence, coated it in spandex, glitter and black vinyl, beat it to a bloody, horrified pulp, tarred it, feathered it, doused it with kerosene and set it on fire. I didn’t invent this rule, nor have I bothered to test it, because I like my mind unscarred and functioning. Do not test this rule if you value your brain. Just know it is true.
When using a Search Engine, for the love of innocence and sanity keep your Safe Search filter ON. I sound dramatic but this is no joking matter.

In Which I Have My Own Space Again, and All I Wanna Do Is Art

Phoo.
I'm supposed to be making phone calls of great import, and scheduling more family vacation arrangements, (Yes, I just got back from one, but this year we seem to have several. I like them, I just don't know what I'm going to do with so many of them- They're like pies. Awesome and fun, but more than one of them and you start wondering if you have room left in the metaphorical fridge of mental capacity.) but all I want to do is art, now that I finally have space to do it again.

I can't think very well lately. I can't seem to keep ideas in my head unless they are art ideas. I need to go shopping for food but I don't quite want to because I haven't showered yet because I was going to do that after walking the dog which I slept in too late to do this morning so I have to do that this afternoon and then run laundry while I walk the dog and see if Mom has the phone number to that one doctor I was supposed to call...

and all I want to do is put up sets and take pictures here in my apartment.

I feel like the world is moving too fast for me. If only I could stop time, so the people leaving me would not leave, the people wanting me to go places would not need to be in a hurry to go, and I could sit for a day or two and just Do Art. If only life were so simple.

In Which It's Never as Bad as I Think it Will be, and I Make Changes

Almost never is.
After I've gone and done something, I get so worked up into a nervous knot over what someone will think, and then I get to standing there in front of them and it's not as bad as I thought it would be. I imagine this cloud of disapproval and disappointment. I think I'm terrified of being a disappointment. I have this hunger for pleased approval. Do I think I don't get enough of that or something?

I am making some changes. I have signed a lease to a new apartment of my very own. I have also cut my hair short again. It was rather long, and just today I had it cut to very short- Almost a pixie cut. I've had this haircut a few times before, and I like it an awful lot. It makes me look cute and capricious. Younger. More my age.

I'm all set to have myself a Quarter life crisis. The idea is starting to sink in: I'm turning 25. No longer just-after-20. Officially "Older" for an LDS single girl. In this culture, especially here in the Rockies, girls get married on average between 20 and 23. Some hang on a little longer, some earlier. When you get to around 24, 25, people start to get the Look. The look that says they nod and ask, "so, you went on a mission?"(instead of getting married, that must be why you're still single, right?) or "So, still looking for Mister Right?" (Because you must be awful picky since you haven't found a guy good enough for you yet) Or the "Oh, she's just not married Yet, but she has a Sweet Spirit!" (read: Is a good person who is mentally retarded, socially unlovely or inept, other deficiencies physical or mental)

If we're going to be literal, yes, I am one of those "Sweet Spirit" people. I do in fact have medically documented issues that add to me being terribly insecure about the whole dating thing, because I've seen how the LDS culture (NOT the religion, the Culture, which is a separate thing) treats the mentally ill or people who aren't normal. With fondness, pity, compassion, but not thoughts of romance or eternal partnership.
At what point in a relationship do you tell someone about your real problems, beyond daily frustrations and into issues that are likely to be a deal-breaker for most guys looking for sturdy stable eternal relationships?

Maybe this is too personal and will get edited later. I just needed to say it somewhere, I guess.
Hopefully, it's Not as Bad as I think it will be. I'm more or less ready to try trusting people and maybe dating again. We'll see.

(Almost) Daily Pearls of Wit, 5/24

Courtesy of my little brain:

"This internet connection. I hate it so much.
It's like a camel with a death grudge and a shot knee."

" I rerouted any accounts I have to a different system now. What a hacker may have thought was a whole-checking-account heist becomes the equivalent of a mothballed purse with a few crumpled dollars and subway ticket."

"The pinky is not strong enough for much use. All it does is seal off your grip if you grasp, say, a bar. And it makes you look elegant gesturing or drinking tea."

In Which I Set Priorities

I'd rather be accepted than corrected.
I'd rather be loved than helped.
I'd rather be listened to than instructed.
I'd rather have love and security than order and structure.
I'd rather feel safe than well-adjusted.
I'd rather be cared about than looked after.
I'd rather be happy than be productive.
I'd rather feel peaceful than successful.
I'd rather be with a few people I like than a lot of people I have to pretend to like.
I'd rather say what I feel than lie and make polite conversation.
I'd rather be honest than walk on eggshells.
I'd rather feel safe and accepted than feel accomplished and productive.

I'd rather be loved than helped.

In Which I Spill

The only thing really keeping me where I am right now is 35 lbs of white fluff and the fact that she needs me,

And if I leave now I can't take her with me unless I accept a place in a house that may not be as nice as I'd like.
Also, I can't physically move by myself. Well, I can, actually but I'd need a day to do it.

I can't live like a twelve year old in her parent's house with a bedtime and child's rules. I came here to get better and I am NOT getting better. I'm getting worse. Worse and worse. There's not enough daylight and I can't get out of bed. I don't have a sense of belonging except for ten by twelve square feet, which becomes my refuge from the rest of the world, and it's borrowed.
I need a life back.
I didn't realize how much this move would hurt my personal sense of dignity until now. I can't look myself in the mirror right now without a little bit of loathing because I feel trapped. I had hoped maybe living here would mean I'd get along better with my family having to be with them all the time but they're around me In Passing, making it hard for me to settle myself anywhere or do anything according to my own pacing, but also not really Being There either. Other than reminding me to get something else done I hardly speak to them, but I have little enough to talk about that doesn't get a response of disapproval.

Dolls. Fantasy writing. My "frivolous" therapy art and crafting.

None of it technically "productive".

Okay, fine. No, art is of no practical use to anyone. But it's been keeping me sane and for a little while every few days I get to be happy. No more pain, no more numbness, no more misery, Happy. I get to enjoy myself and feel happy. That hardly ever happens to me so I'll take it where I can get it, thanks, whether it's "Productive" or not, because my Will To Live is wayyy more important to me and Productivity or school or anything else.

If there were someone else who would take daily care of the dog I love, I'd be gone.

In Which I Try to Catch Up

So much has happened since last entry.
Biggest of all, I am an Aunt now. The Nephew is darling and pink and tiny and beautiful, and I have already begun on my plan to spoil him. I made him a pair of white moccasins with abalone shell buttons, I got his Mommy a bunch of little board books for him later, and a tiny stuffed sock monkey.

Also, it will not stop snowing here.
More later.

In Which a Statement of Beliefs is Made.

We talk about what we believe, like in God or not a god, in Pro Life or Pro Abortion, and so on and so forth, but do we talk about day to day beliefs that each individual makes their thoughts out of? I submit that we do not.

Well, I believe.
I believe in a rug for every cold spot on the floor.
I believe in German engineering for anything I have to drive.
I believe in computer technology.
I believe in polarized glasses.
I believe in naproxen sodium as painkiller par excellence.
I believe in never going through a checkout line on my cell phone.
I believe in braking early.
I believe in not killing any animal unless I have to, it plans to eat me or my food or property, or I plan to eat it. I toss spiders out windows.
I believe in unruly gardens.
I believe in swept floors.
I believe in stewardship as a measurement of character.
I believe in having my own place, nest, Spot.
I believe in using only toothpaste that tastes good.
I believe in avoiding most commercial perfumes.
I believe in real peanut butter. Not the store kind mixed with too much Crisco. Crisco is industrial lubricant and unfit for human consumption, butter-flavored or not.
I believe in bare legs, no nylons.
I believe in comfortable shoes. The zombiepocalypse could strike at any moment. I'm ready.
I believe in carrying a knife.
I believe in long coats.
I believe in staying young inside.
I believe in paws and wet noses.
I believe in sunlight.

In Which I Prepare for Changes.

I will be leaving my Castle in the wood, and the village of Saint Elijah, where I have dwelt these last long years. This makes me reflective. I am going far, far to the North, to live at the foot of the Broken Mountains. This is going to be a big change, and as I look around at the walls of my Castle already bare, everything being packed up, I can't help but wonder if I'll ever return. The future is uncertain now.
Will I come back here? Will I ever play with my dog on the hill above the village and watch the sun set over the ocean again? Will I ever sit under my Shaking Silver trees or hang bird nests in the olive tree again? Will I ever feast a group of laughing friends around a table in my red walled dining room again? Will I ever live here where the wind carries the smell of the sea? I just don't know. I want to come back here someday. The Castle will be here, waiting for me, by the sea.

The North has its own challenges. It'll be cold there, cold enough to wear all my nifty coats and jackets. I need new boots, too. I'll have to learn to deal with ice, and snow. I'll have to find my own place to make a new temporary home in. But my family will be there, and I will hopefully make new friends, and keep in touch with the old friends, and find new ways to live.