ROAD BLOG AHEAD

I think it started with the Yak jerky. Really. I mean, how often do you find a packet of jerked yak meat in your lingerie drawer?

I’m excavating to make room for our visitor next week.I have to do the equivalent of packing a couple of suitcases out of which I’ll be living for the next 4 months. Going through all my clothes, picking a wardrobe that will do and jamming it into the hall closet with the coats where I can get at it on a daily basis. The rest of my stuff will live in my bedroom closet, but I won’t have access to it unless Lena and Rimpoche are traveling for an extended period. Then I get the bedroom back for a few days. But mostly we’ll be sleeping on an air mattress in the living room.

I wish I were like Lena who pretty much *does* pack a bag and live out of it for the duration. It’s a butch thing I guess. A couple of pair of jeans, a couple pairs of khakis, shirts, socks shoes and boxers and she’s good to go. And will look crisp and dapper. For formal events she has her own lama robes. She doesn’t wear ‘em much here in the U.S., but some ceremonies and situations call for her to be properly attired and she’ll cave in and put on the lama drag. Our visitor doesn’t see it as “drag” since that’s his native garb. He’s even easier - he owns exactly two of everything and that’s it. Two sets of monk’s robes - tops and bottoms and two zens - the silk wraps, one everyday and one for teaching. When one set gets dirty, he puts on the other while the first is washed. Very simple.

I wear ceremonial garb even less often. Mostly when I have to be “formal” I’ll throw on my own zen over whatever. I’m kind of a clothes horse though so I like things to match. The traditional wrap of a “naljorma” (which is the category I fit in) has wide alternating bands of burgundy and white running lengthwise. The white center band indicates that one’s a yogi but not a renunciate. So I can’t wear green or I look like Christmas And I can’t wear it with blue or I look like an American Fourth of July poster! So I usually do end up going with either black or the traditional dark red through brown shades, in which case I might as well be wearing traditional robes.

Fortunately, I’m the secretary, etc. so I get to stay out of the fray for the most part. Which means I get to wear whatever clothes I want most of the time. Which is how I came across the yak jerky in my lingerie. I was pulling out a few things that I really like and feel sexy wearing. And, amists the garter belts and lace camisoles, there was this foil packet of dried yak meat that someone brought as a gift for Rimpoche several years ago. I have no idea how it got into my lingerie drawer, particularly since we moved last year and it isn’t even the *same* lingerie drawer I had previously.

Yak meat, by the way, is the staple in Tibet. It’s pretty equivalent to beef once you get the hairy outside off. It’s just cold weather cow. And most Tibetans are perfectly content with ordinary steak since yak is just a tad hard to find around here. But somehow someone got ahold of this pack of dried stuff and presented it to Lama Wangdor, thinking he was offering a great delicacy, something truly exotic. There’s even a little bit of Tibetan script on the package, though it doesn’t appear to actually *say* anything! The rest is in Chinese, except for some rather strange artwork of… yaks. So anyway, Rimpoche accepted this very politely, but then put it aside, suspicious of anything made of yak this far away from yak stomping grounds. The package pretty much has stayed around since as a curiousity, residing, for a time, in the exotic foods cupboard in our previous kitchen next to the freeze-dried jellyfish and the jar of kimchee. Then we moved and somehow the jellyfish got left behind and the yak ended up in my underwear. Well, not *in* my underwear, that would’ve been quite a sight, but with my underwear. My sexy underwear no less, the stuff I only wear for… special friends.

So clearly it was an omen. I was *meant* to choose some of that girly lingerie to lift my… er… spirits during the coming days of nunishness. The problem is that, from the moment I found the yak, the phone started ringing off the wall with scheduling calls, requests, odd problems and things that require action. Now. So the rollercoaster ride has begun. The day has moved incredibly fast and shows no signs of slowing down tomorrow. We’re on a roll my friends and it just gets weirder and more bizarre from here on out.

One thing about being the doctor’s wife - you have these opportunities to notice that, no matter how bummed out you feel at any given time, there’s a lot of other people feeling a whole lot worse. Comes up a lot in my line of work too - it’s a lot like being a therapist - people pay you to listen to their problems. And to tell them what to do about those problems.

The world is driving people crazy. Over and over again I hear tales of stress and struggling just to keep up - with all the paperwork that just living in our society demands; with a job and kids; with job and school; with the seemingly impossible pursuit of happiness.

One thing is readily apparent - those who have at least moderately good relationships ongoing in their lives are less stressed and less freaked out than those who do not when shit happens to them. Even those who have fucked up relationships seem to cope a bit better than people who are alone in the world. It’s not just sex and romance as far as I can tell. A good friend can make all the difference. A roommate that one likes. Even Mom can make a difference. A sister or brother. Just having someone who will hand you up a lightbulb when you’re at the top of the ladder can reduce stress.

I’m really appreciating the relationships in my life at the moment. Even the ones I haven’t quite got figured out yet. I feel pretty blessed to have them. Some days you notice them more than others or they just impact you a lot. Today I guess I noticed. I heard from someone at a distance who I love a lot who is stressed but took the time to stay in touch. I watched patients come and go, spent time with clients and noticed how even one with the over-protective mother in tow seemed glad of her company. We got brought dinner by one of Lena’s cousins who knew we were both working late and who is kind and loving and wanted to. And I changed light bulbs. That’s when I really noticed. At the top of the ladder. It’s nice to have someone else there.

We got a lot accomplished yesterday - despite the odds. The major monkey wrench was, of course, psycho landlord. The minute he saw us cleaning out the basement storage area to make room for things, he decided that he had to clean out his closets and that HE was going to use all the space we’d cleared for our things. This is the kind of thing he does over and over. Then, after this, he had the absolute nerve to ask if he could schedule to have Rimpoche do a ceremony in his house!!! He is playing these weird games like he is about 11 years old and we are the Mommies and he’s testing us to see how far we’ll be pushed before we blow. We did not bargain for a passive-agressive adolescent when we moved here!

But a lot of stuff did get packed and stored and we’re starting to see that it will all work. Now comes the part where Lena and I hate being apart for even a few hours because we’re trying to sort of “stock up” on each other’s company. The next few months we’ll be separated for weeks at a time and we always hate that. It’s physically painful as well as emotionally painful - it always feels like a severed limb for the first few weeks. Then, just as we’re getting used to it, we’re back together just long enough to fall into our familiar patterns and then separated again. Talking by phone just isn’t the same as touching!

In our last house, after the kid left to go off to college, we had a room in the basement to sleep in. We’re going to have to get more creative here since we don’t really have a private space to retreat to. Our friend across town is okay with us going to her place for intimacy, but when do we really get a couple of hours away – together- to make that work? Not damned likely. We used to think we’d have Lena’s office one or two days a week to sneak off to (it’s behind the house) but, with nutso landlord encroaching on all common turf without regard for the rest of us, that’s highly improbable.

The lastest wonderfulness from landlord - he came this morning, shut off the hot water in the kitchen, ostensibly to make a repair. And went away. We’ll see if he manages to return at the least convenient moment of our day. Sigh. Well, if he wants a ceremony, I can probably manage it for the last week before the tour is over. It may keep him from doing anything too berzerk, like evicting us on a whim, before Lama W leaves. Afterwards, we may be looking for a new house without prompting for him. OTOH, it’s possible that Rimpoche’s presence around here will have a soothing effect. He IS responsive to energies and mantric practice. If he gets too twitchy, I do a whole bunch of protections and he usually wanders off and leaves us alone. Until the next time, but it’s something anyway. I have no idea why he’s become so manic these past few months. It’s really rather awful.

So, off to set things up some more. Did I mention that our house is also converted into a kind of shrine room /temple for the duration? We always keep an altar up, but usually not quite as elaborate a one as when there are constantly ceremonies and rituals and such happening here and we need to have all the accoutrement out.Yahoo and off I go.