Thanks for visiting. This site will no longer be updated.

Please visit my new site.

You can find new writing, new photos at


Tuesday, January 29, 2008


At 3am on Sunday morning, I woke up to the sound of rain pelting against the windows of my bedroom. So much water this weekend: tears, mist, fog, rain, being very aware of the great expanse of the Pacific Ocean so near to my house. The rain this past Sunday was really powerful; big fat drops that streaked and splattered across the windows. There are more storms predicted this week and I'm looking forward to them.

The hard rain made me feel a lot calmer. Your thoughts and wishes and advice did too.


I am learning that events like this past weekend that cause introspection end up being so helpful to me, even if they are very difficult or very sad events. They are catalysts for change, focus and direction (or redirection), and in my life, I'm trying to always be open to change. These times feel to me like being in a very dark room, not knowing what's in there, afraid you might bump into some furniture and maybe even hurt yourself. And you grope around in the dark and then you find the light switch on the wall, and in an instant, you flood the room with light.

And then you can see what is before you and around you. Then you can decide if you like what's in the room, if you want to move the furniture around, or if you want to throw everything away and start over. Even if you turn the light off again, at least you know what's in that room.


Obviously I don't have any more answers to my big questions than I did a few days ago, but I do have a great support system and a mind that doesn't stop working, which to me are very good things indeed.

I remembered one of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite movies. I won't say that I get all of my life advice from Woody Allen, but there are times when I certainly can relate.

Eternity is really long, especially near the end.--Woody Allen


Maria January 29, 2008 at 3:09 PM  

Dear TangoBaby,

Have been so busy and overloaded with work and worries that I have had to cut on my daily blog intake... that's why I had missed all that's happening in your life...

I'm so very sorry to hear what has been happening with your grandpa. In moments like this, I'm never really sure of what to say that can be truly comforting, aside from the fact that we are here for you, sending you and all your family huge good warm vibes.

An enormous hug,


tangobaby January 30, 2008 at 9:00 AM  

Dear Tanguera,

Just the fact that you are thinking of me is enough. I welcome the hug. And send one to you as well.

(I never know what to say in moments like these either.)

Thank you so much.


Anonymous January 30, 2008 at 1:49 PM  

And when all else fails...


tangobaby January 30, 2008 at 3:05 PM  

Absolutely! (thank goodness for youtube, huh?)

Anonymous January 30, 2008 at 5:17 PM  

Dearest tangobaby,

I have only just read your last two posts. I am sending you a huge hug from Buenos Aires. I loved your honesty in writing about how you felt. You know that's what I believe in too.
I also loved what you wrote about the dark room and the light: I recognise it all... even if you turn the light off again you know what's in that room... yes.
I am walking with you.
Our fears of the moment may be different, but our desire to understand them, change and grow is very much the same.

I support you my cyberspace friend, as you have so generously supported me.


tangobaby January 30, 2008 at 10:01 PM  

Dear Sallycat,

Someday when I meet you--and that's a when, not an if--I might never stop hugging you.

Thank you for being out there in the world. For being wonderful. Hugs travel very quickly through the internet.