Lights. Tunnel. That sort of thing.
I can't, in the spirit of "In the name of all that's holy, do NOT jinx it," tell you what these good news are. But they are pretty good. Not out of the woods but, to mix my metaphors, the light at the end of the tunnel is finally larger than a pinhole. I actually exhaled restfully once or twice.
Which is a welcome development, and more than just for the "face value" of the good news. This is the first streak of good news since late 2007. Those of you who have prayed, sacrificed chickens, chanted, etc., are the object of my most fervent thanks.
This is the point of the post when I debate internally whether I should spill more details, or just stoically clam up. On the one hand, I think I owe the assembled throng a measure of candor, but I also shudder at the whinge-fest that would ensue from my keyboard. Especially since, let's be honest, as bad as things are this hasn't exactly been the Rwandan genocide.
For the moment, then, let's just go a bit via media.
I have learned a LOT about myself. I have learned that my marriage has been a LOT more resilient than I ever wanted to find out.
The good news is that I have confirmed I have my mother's "Bataan Death March" gene. The bad news is that there have been days when, during quiet moments, I could actually, literally, no-I'm-not-kidding, feel years being shaved off my life. Whenever, in 30 years' time, I blog about some horrible development in my health, you will all be able to snap your fingers in recognition and say "Of course! The Great Unclaimed Malady of 2007-2010!"
It takes, I suppose, "crucible moments" to reveal what lies at our core, both good and bad. I found it very jarring to have to face these aspects of my life, seeing as how my life's greatest ambition was to spend my earthly days in placid smugness and benevolent complacency, on a hammock and sipping a lovely beverage. Pride goeth before a fall, goeth the cliché and I have had to adjust my mindset in uncomfortable ways.
Among you are many, many, who have been startled by sudden crises or horrible developments that require, for successful navigation, perseverance above all. Having seen such from a new perspective, my hat is doffed in your direction. Seriously, to you -- and you know who you are -- Respect.
To keep this from devolving (further) into maudlin-land, I am now leaping to action as Thanksgiving is nearly upon us and, it being my VERY favorite holiday, I must prepare to feed a brigade of +/- 50 people.
Thanksgiving, I have discovered, is my favorite holiday because it combines a lot of the things I like. There's the God angle, the gratitude angle, the "this country has gone abysmal and so we'll get on this boat and go to this whole other country" angle, the obscure history and trivia angle, the lack of cards and presents and appalling mass market candy, and -- let's not deny it -- the hyper-foodie angle.
At least ovah heah, this is the one holiday (even more than New Year's) when one's foodie self can sashay freely in the open. Tell people you only feed your family organic chicken hand-reared by nuns and they'll roll their eyes, but tell people you're looking for the equivalent turkey and everyone nods sagely.