It's the fifth anniversary of Penny's death, the release from the prison of cancer and a body that was a distorted prison.
For the last week or so I've had "visit" dreams, but none of them has been sufficiently interactive to say that they're true visitations; Penny's been in them as a participant but not on stage so much.
I've been fairly busy with job search; there's a pretty positive lead at Triquint and some promising contracting leads as well, though I want the one at Triquint for several reasons, not the least being it's NOT CONTRACT WORK.
I plan to take a nap around 3pm though. Although, so tired now I might just do it now instead, for an hour or so. Once I post this.
Today through the rest of the country it's been snowy, blizzardish in places. Here there was a faint dusting of snow in the evening, and this morning was a stormy and rainy blow much like the 12th of January in 2006. It's not helping much with flashbacks. Already I've had three strong visual memories of finding her, and re-reading my journals from five years ago I'm realizing that I have let a lot of that time slip from memory. Even the stuff that hurt, doesn't come back on me that strongly. Strange, huh?
The last year has not been my best time. But, in one respect, I've improved by doing what I need to do in order to survive the diabetes. My blood sugars are now less than 120 at most times, and tend to be more around 90-110, and I've been getting more exercise. But not enough sleep lately.
My church has been going through some rather weird times in the search for a new rector. Our interim has had serious health issues and there's been some struggling to find the consensus we so easily got when Father Bill MacKenzie left us. But we're getting there, I guess.
Penny, I still miss you. I am glad you're free from pain.
Addendum -- I slept for about three hours, the last hour being almost-fevery dreams and weird images. I can't recall clearly who was in them now, but it was a long and rather confusing set of stories. Penny was in there but I don't remember anything about her interaction. Still, it was better than if I had stayed awake and found myself blacking out the way it's happened the last two years; last year I was at work and had very little clear recall of what I dreamed in the forced fifteen minutes of narcolepsy-fueled downtime.