Er, Hi?

This is the knee which has been swelling on and off for almost a year now.

Yes, the edge of my sleep shirt says:  Sleeps with dogs.

I think it covers all the possibilities, if I ever think about lying down with two or four-footed animals again. Hmm, it's gonna be awhile, folks.

See previous posts on sucking at this whole blogging thing.

Sigh.

Well, a lot has happened since I last logged on here.

Since April of 2014, I have been separated from the SO who was less than supportive of my creative process, both the photography and the writing.

I survived another winter with SADS. Barely. There were some weekends where the only time I left the bed was to pee, eat or plug my phone in. Sometimes I only ate once a day.

I read a lot of crap on my Kindle, my Nook for iPhone. Total escapism reading. Will not be divulging the utter crap titles.

I impersonated an ostrich a lot, with my head in the proverbial sand, not thinking about the upcoming divorce.

Cried only a bit.

Lost custody of the spotted dog.

Running/exercised occasionally. Knee swelled a lot. Finally got an Rx for physical therapy. PT does not think it's a meniscus tear. Just the tracking of my patella.  Lots of strengthening exercises later, my patella still is too wonky medially & laterally. But it's better. And I have an ex-triathelete's brain to pick about getting my running gait less like Grover's (he taught me everything he knew, which is why I ended up in PT ;)

Gotta get to Freddy to talk to my phone carrier about running out of data prematurely.  And kill some Zombies so I'll be prepared for the Zombie Apocalypse.

Hopefully, I'll be back before 2016, Zombies notwithstanding.

Oh, I almost forgot!  I had a poem published in the 2015 edition of The Gunpowder Review. I'm actually attending the reading in Bel Air, MD on June 14 at the Barnes & Noble there. Starts at 2, if anyone is interested. Here's the Lulu link:

http://www.lulu.com/shop/vonnie-winslow-crist/the-gunpowder-review-2015/paperback/product-22119908.html

Her last walk*

Her name was Scully. Yes, she was named after Dana Scully from The X-Files. I am a terminal geek. She had inoperable cancer and had to be euthanized summer before last. Less than two months later my Mom died, also of inoperable cancer. That summer sucked.

So did last summer, when my 11-year-old GSP** got sick with some undetermined bug that all but shut down his kidneys. There is nothing like giving an uncooperative dog 2 ounces of water every 15 minutes to appreciate his emptying a 20 ounce water bowl at one long drinking session. Oh, did I mention the IV saline we had to rig up for his dangerously dehydrated spotted butt?

That was July, halfway between the anniversaries of Scully and my Mom's deaths. I disappeared for about four months and only started coming out of my depression when I weaned myself off of anti-depressants, ironically enough. And started exercising again. And writing my morning brain-drain pages while basking in front of a blue light for 20 minutes in the morning. It wasn't just one thing, it was a combination of activities which propelled me toward healthier thoughts.

I will always fight SADS (expletive Seasonal Affective Disorder Syndrome). It affects me in summer (expletive heat) and winter (expletive lack of usable wavelength sunlight). But I must remind myself that it's better when I write, when I play with images, and when I move my lazy @ss.

Let's hope I continue to post here on a semi-weekly basis. Yes, I have another RLB*** challenge, and blogging is one of those things I should do...

* Scully was 14.3 years old.
** German Shorthair Pointer, AKA spotted dog.
*** Robert Lee Brewer, poet, editor (Writer's Market, etc)