The call, and response

"If you don't live it, it won't come out your horn." - Charlie Parker

 I was texting last night. Ah ha?
Yeh, I was texting last night.

The new-to-us iphone is slowly making the whorl we live in just a little bit bigger. For so long, how long? For a long time (I got my in 2001) Pete and I have used our fliptop Samsung cellphones clinging to the once new as the many adaptations to being in a highly technological society stacked up: no black and white TVs? Well, to tell you the truth until not too many winters ago we watched DVDs on a small, but heavy old color TV that Pete hauled in and out of the vardo.

Just recently, we have finally made the move to watching DVDs on this laptop. No Netflick, yet. So you see the opening lines of this post are significant.

We took a drive north to visit a long-time friend. Our rendezvous  took place in a cafe that featured perogi, a comfort food Pete has talked about forever. His gramma used to make 'em. The Polish-Ukranian dumplings were small "give me a plate of food" too small in Pete's book but the conversation was rich, and it had been a long time between visits. An added bonus to our hook-up was the sharing of library loaned episodes of more Pie in the Sky. What we could not find on this island our friend could find on hers.

I'm putting this YouTube for making those perogi here for the day Pete and I try to make those little goodies at home. Blogging a space for keeping the possible future.

The sun is shining this morning. Shadows are cast like tattoos on the old white sheet curtain. January is quickly becoming past of history. What a month! Without light those shadows would not show up. Somewhere there's a message for me as I reflect compassionately on the hives that have been making their presence known on the soft spots of my skin. One source says, "hives are itchy bumps on the body that can be triggered by stress. Anxiety causes a considerable amount of stress on the immune system, so those prone to hives are likely to get them." 

Thing is, I haven't had hives for many, many years. They showed up the night before our perogi rendezvous, stuck around throughout the day, and tried again last night. Always just before midnight. Last night, I checked on the timing when Pete was climbing back into bed. 

"What time is it, honey?" I asked.
"Ah, about 11:30. You still awake, want me to tell you a story?" Pete was concerned about the hives and the stress I was telling him that was the story going on for me. 
"No." I didn't go into details not wanting to give the hives or the anxiety more to feed on. 

I calmed myself as gently as I could. Breathed through the temptation to scratch and sunk into a dream of teaching people to use old punch-the-keys cash registers. A variation on an old theme sort of dream from my long past career as a cashier trainer for a now dead drug store chain. 

I was texting to my son last night.
"This texting thing is pretty cool. Why did it take us so long?"

We are a funny lot, us humans. I wonder how long it takes to get to know myself and my place within the pack. I wish I was easier on the transitioning periods and consider the wild ones that live so close to us. Coyote for example.

  

 "Maybe freedom really is nothing left to lose. You had it once in childhood, when it was okay to climb a tree, to paint a crazy picture and wipe out on your bike, to get hurt. The spirit of risk gradually takes its leave. It follows the wild cries of joy and pain down the wind, through the hedgerow, growing ever fainter. What was that sound? A dog barking far off? That was our life calling to us, the one that was vigorous and undefended and curious.” 

-  Peter Heller (Hell or High Water)from Myth & Moor

How long does it take you to respond to life's calls?