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Showing posts from June, 2008

Hair Days

"I have very short hair. It's the only cute haircut I think I've ever had. " Jamie Lee Curtis When I'm depressed I often turn my attention to my hair. With the hope of feeling less sad, I look to a new hair style to enliven my dragging spirit. In all actuality, however, when you have straight, lifeless, gray hair like I do there's not much you can do to it. I've tried coloring and perming over the years, and learned (the hard way) that dyed hair has to be continually re-dyed and curly hair looks good on a poodle not me. Regardless, when I find myself feeling blue one of the first things I do is call my friend Charles*. He not only has great hair styling expertise, he is a compassionate listener. We've had the same conversation several times over the course of our relationship. He knows when to nod his head, when to smile like he agrees with me, and when to walk me over to the shampoo bowl, which in essence puts an end to the conversation. A few years a

Gone Underground

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Hi, faithful readers. Did you think I got lost. Perhaps I did. I wrote the following almost a month ago. But I stopped before I actually posted it. And the days have passed. My mood has not lifted much but I've followed the recovery prescription. I've taken a lot of naps. I've pulled a lot of weeds. I think there is a connection somewhere in the way creeping vines wind their way around perfectly good and beautiful azalea bushes, sucking up their sunshine and the way depression can wind its way into one's soul. I'm just not sure yet how to put the words together. Once upon a time, I thought I'd write a book about depression. I've read many, kept some with yellow highlighted paragraphs of descriptions of dark places I never thought anyone else but me knew about. I'm not sure why. If you live it, why read about it? Because the truth is, books about depression are depressing. When I write a book I want it to be happy. I want it to tell stories that make peop